Of Mer and Men
by lamppb13
Summary: An orc named Burz Gro Ka helped the Legion win over Skyrim, and stopped Alduin's attack. But what does he get in return? An unofficial exile in Markarth. But he is being called back once again to stop the real threat to Skyrim and all of Tamriel: The Aldmeri Dominion.
1. Chapter 1: Reinstatement

Chapter 1: Reinstatement

"Got any Black-briar?" asked a gruff voice.

"Uh, no sir. No Black-briar today. Might I offer the Honningbrew?"

"Ah well. I suppose that will have to do then. And Kleppr, you can call me Burz. We are in a tavern for Talos' sake. No need for formalities." replied the gruff voice.

"Well... Burz... You know Frabbi. She hates when I get too friendly with the customers," said Kleppr.

"Tell her Burz gro Ka doesn't take kindly to being called sir by friends," Burz said loud enough for Frabbi to hear from the fireplace. She looked across the dimly lit tavern at the orc and glared. "Now hand me some of that Honningbrew. I need a drink."

Kleppr poured some mead into a tankard and handed it to Burz, who grabbed it with a grimy hand. He had been at the forge all day working on his ebony smithing. Since the war was over, that was about all he was useful for now. He took a swig from the tankard and looked down at the stone table-top. All he was to the Imperials now was a relic. A memory. One that he couldn't shake even after 10 years. He still had nightly terrors from the horrors of war.

* * *

Burz unsheathed his Orcish warhammer as he and the Imperials stormed fort Greymoor. This would give them the foothold in Whiterun they needed should the Stormcloaks choose to attack. But first, it had to be cleared of bandits. Running through the gates, Burz smashed the barricades to allow more soliders in. This was his first mission with the Legion.

* * *

Burz tried to drink his memories away, but all he could remember was blood and tears. And the ungratefulness. He practically won the war for Tullius. It was Burz who defeated the Jarl of Eastmarch. And what did he get in return? A promotion to Legate. A useless title now that there was peace. Burz thought he should be grateful for the peace. Isn't that what they had fought for?

* * *

Legion soldiers spilled through the fort's gates. Burz's hammer met with many shields and helmets. He could see the bodies go limp as he gave them concussions and fractured skulls. "Take the keep!" his general yelled. Burz ran to the main structure in the complex.

* * *

All of the fighting seemed so long ago. It felt like it had happened in a completely different land, far away. Strange and foreign. He took another swig from the tankard and fought back the burning tears of regret. They had fought for peace, and they won. But what they had was not peace. It was just the eye of a long brewing storm. The White-Gold Concordant was taking it's toll on not only the Nords of Skyrim, but all of Tamriel. The Aldmeri Dominion took more and more rights everyday. Burz had believed the Empire would surely strike back once Skyrim had been won over. Then he believed they were just biding their time to regain strength, but 10 years? It has been too long.

* * *

Once inside Burz found his way up to the Bandit Chief's quarters. He was the first up, and found no one. Where was the chief? Had he already abandoned his party? Burz felt a sharp pain enter the back of his leg and heard a loud scream. He looked behind him and saw a large man dressed in iron. He realized the scream was his own when he saw the man's sword in the back of his thigh. Burz dropped to one knee as he turned around and swung his hammer as hard and wide as he could. He made contact with the mans shin and felt his leg buckle. He had broken the bone. The chief let out a moan of pain. Burz's vision began to blur and started to feel weak. He saw Legion soldiers appear in the doorway as the world turned black.

* * *

Burz reached down and rubbed his leg. His old war wound still acted up in the cold Skyrim climate. Often times he thought of moving to the desserts of Elsweyr or to the Gold Coast close to Anvil. But very little movement was allowed by the Altimer. Even by their own retired soldiers. He could move to Whiterun where the cold wasn't as bitter, but he and Jarl Balgruuf weren't on the best of terms. Besides, this was Ghorza's, his beloved wife's, home. He couldn't ask her to leave the shop she worked so hard to open. He took one last swig of his mead before it was gone. "Kleppr! I need another!"

"Burz... I don't like turning away gold, but all you do these days is work all day at Ghorza's forge, and then you come in here and drink yourself into a drunken stupor and I have to make sure you make the climb to Vlindrel Hall without falling off the cliff. You used to be something. You were a hero." Kleppr said in a tone full of pity and worry. His words stung. No one in Markarth ever stood up to him like that. It had been so long since some one had earnestly called him a hero. Not since the Battle of Windhelm.

"I... Well, what would you have me do? Tullius has all but forced my retirement. I am useless Kleppr. All I know is war," Burz looked down at his empty tankard. His voice was heavy.

"Well, for one, clean yourself up. You spent all that money on Vlindrel Hall. You are one of the few men in town with their own water, yet you walk around as if you have no place to bathe. Second, stop wasting your time drinking. Go and love your wife. I remember your wedding. You two were so happy and in love, and now look at you. You treat each other as co-workers rather than husband and wife."

"You and Frabbi fight all the time..." Burz interjected.

"Yes, but that is how we have always been and always will be. That is our love. And I am trying to fix your problems right now, not mine." Kleppr laughed and Burz joined in mildly. "Seriously Burz. You call me your friend. Take your friend's advice. I don't want to bury you in your prime."

"But am I in my prime? I'm washed up Kleppr. I'm 33 and have nothing more to contribute. An orc shouldn't be living like this. You Nords hold on to your glory long past its usefulness. You fight until you are old and gray and can hardly hold an axe."

"Burz, 33 is long from 'old and gray.' You have many years left! Go and live them!"

"But how, Kleppr? How?" The orc begged. He knew nothing but war and conflict. To settle for anything less would be wasting the strength Malacath had granted him. Just then the door burst open.

"Legate gro Ka?" A young soldier asked. All he knew was the name, not a face. Typical Legion briefing.

"Right here, boy. What word does Tullius send?" Burz asked. He expected to hear of a memorial or celebration that he would need to attend. Being a decorated veteran, he was expected to go to such things from time to time so he could be shown off like a prized pig. He hated it.

"He has requested your presence in Castle Dour in Solitude by weeks end, sir." The soldier said quickly.

"Tell Tullius if it is another party or meaningless ceremony that I am busy here and can not attend." He glanced at Kleppr and shrugged his shoulders. Kleppr hid his grin and started to wipe the stone table-top clean.

"Sir, it is not a ceremony." He said quickly. This little guy was skittish. Burz could see why he was on Currier duty.

"Well, what is it, boy?" Burz said, getting frustrated at the soldier's persistence.

"I can't say... in front of civilians, sir." He said glancing around the room.

"As a vastly superior officer, I am giving you a direct order. Out with it boy!" He barked.

"Sir, we are planning our offensive. Against... the Aldmeri Dominion..." The soldier got very quiet. Burz stood silent and stared at the young soldier. He did not have words. He had hoped for this moment to come, but did not know what to do now that the moment was here.

"L-let me get my things... Kleppr, here is 10 gold. Give this man a room," Burz said as he turned to Kleppr. "I will meet with you here in the morning, solider. I must gather my thoughts and things. And have one final night with my wife." He said grimly. How long would this war drag on?

"Yes sir. Of course." the soldier replied.


	2. Chapter 2: The Awakening

Chapter 2: The Awakening

"You know the Dominion will just make puppets out of the Empire," Ulfric Stormcloak glared at the large orc warrior in front of him.

"If the Empire stands together, along with a unified Skyrim, we can win, Ulfric. And better a puppet to the elves than an egotistical, power hungry Nord who can't even tend to his own people," the orc replied.

"And what is that supposed to mean?" Ulfic snarled.

"Look at your own people in the gray quarter! They beg and plea f..."

"Those swine must be sacrificed for their Nord protectors!" Ulfric yelled, cutting the orc off.

"Are Nords the only thing that matter? Am _I_ swine? The Nords alone can not hold off the Dominion."

"Listen to me, and listen to me well, Dragonborn. The Nords are the past, present, and future of men. Our wrath will know no bounds. The mer have not yet faced a true Nord army." The ground shook as Ulfric's Thu'um began to surface.

"Careful how prideful you become, Ulfric. You may live forever in books, but you are not immortal." The ground shook more as the Dragonborn's Thu'um grew as well.

"You have over stayed your welcome here, Burz gro Ka. I will ask you to leave now."

* * *

Burz woke with a gasp. His excitement stirred Ghorza. "What is wrong, my love? More nightmares?"

"Yes dear. Just a bad dream." Burz tossed the blankets off of him as he sat on the edge of his bed. He stared at his orcish armor he had crafted himself. The moon shown through the window and cast a dim blue light. The armor made him feel more at ease than his Legate armor. He had gone to a near by orc compound to get the ore needed. He also learned the ritual to ask Malacath's blessing on the armor. He began to think what would be his first assignment. Would he stay in Skyrim for a while? How long would this last? Burz also had little experience fighting mages. Nords didn't typically trust magic or mages. So there was very little magic being cast at him in the war. There were so many unknowns. He felt Ghorza's had rubbing him back.

"You must rest, my love. You have to travel to Solitude tomorrow." She said in a soft voice.

"I know. I just can't believe... It's been 10 years. Why now?" He asked, knowing Ghorza would not have the answer.

"Malacath will guide you home to me Burz. I am sure of this." She said in a reassuring tone. Burz tried to go back to sleep, but thoughts of the coming days kept creeping into his head. Thoughts of the past still haunted him as well. Ghorza gave him a tender kiss goodnight.

* * *

"Gro Ka, get up to the palace of Kings! You take Ulfric out!" General Tullius yelled over the clash of steel and iron. It was the final assault on Windhelm. After nearly a year long campaign across Skyrim they had made it. This was it.

"Yes sir!" Burz bellowed. He ran fast up the city steps. Slaying Stormcloak soldiers as he went. He reached the castle gates shouted them open. He walked in on Ulfric and Galmar, his right hand man, standing in the large central hall. Waiting.

"Galmar, how about you go make sure the Dragonborn and I are not disturbed." The self proclaimed High King calmly said. Galmar walked to the gates and closed them behind him. "You know, Burz, it is not too late to join me. The Imperials will fall. You do not have to join them."

"Still so sure of yourself? Where does this arrogance come from?" Burz felt hate welling up inside him. The Graybeards had taught him to conquer his anger and to avoid hate.

"It comes from believing in my cause."

"Even now you use your words like a poison. They have no meaning behind them Ulfric. Your message is empty and hollow. All you strive for is power."

"The Aldmeri will wear the Empire like a glove, and you? You will be in the palm of their hand. The legendary Dragonborn, a true Nord in an Orsimer body, to be used however they see fit."

"Do not disgrace me by saying I am anything but an Orc!" The castle shook terribly. Burz's rage was bubbling up inside of him. He was losing control.

"If there is no way to convince you otherwise, then you are no use to me." Ulfric pulled out his axe and leaped at Burz.

"FUS RO DAH!" Burz let out a mighty Thu'um that blasted his foe back to the other end of the hall. Burz sprinted forward and swung his hammer with all his might. Ulfric dodged the hammer narrowly as it caught is coat.

"YOL TOOR SHUL!" Ulfric let out a blast of fire that singed the fabric in his armor, but he protected his face from the blast.

"FO KRAH DIIN!" Burz retaliated. The frost slammed Ulfric, knocking him back some. Burz used this to his advantage. He swung his hammer and struck Ulfric in the chest. He felt a few ribs shatter from the impact. Ulfric was knocked to his back. Burz jumped on the fallen Jarl's stomach.

"FUS RO DAH!" Ulfric mustered a shout that blasted Burz off of him. Ulfric tried regaining his footing, but his ribs were causing him difficulty. Burz shot up and swung another blow to the Jarl's leg, crushing his knee. The man was down, and could not fight. Burz had defeated Ulfric. It was done.

"ZUN HAAL VIIK!" Burz disarmed him to make sure he could not get a cheap shot in.

"Go ahead... an... and... finish me..." Ulfric coughed up a small amount of blood. Burz's rage was still bubbling over. It would be too easy to end it that quickly.

"KRII LUN AUS!" Burz shouted the curse out. Ulfric writhed in pain. His blood boiled and his skin was searing. His bones started to crack as his very life force was being drained from his body. The Graybeards had forbade him from using the curse. It was a perversion of the Thu'um. It was the worst kind of torture to put a man in. But Burz did not care. The curse died off in Ulfric. Burz knelt down and began to beat Ulfric's face until he was unrecognizable.

"Please... S...stop! P... COUGH please! Just kill me! Gr... grant.. me... a warriors death! I... COUGH deserve... a... an... honorable death..." Ulfric pleaded with Burz.

"The dark elves deserved more than what you gave them. The Argonians DESERVED more! You do not deserve an honorable death! You have no honor! KRII LUN AUS!" Ulfric writhed once more. His screams echoed in the hall. It pierced Burz's very soul. What was he doing? No man deserved this! He watched in horror as Ulfric's life drained from him slowly until he finally died. He took Ulfric's axe and severed his head from the body. Burz took the dead Jarl's head and axe outside where he held it high for all to see. Imperials and Stormcloaks alike began to cease their fighting. General Tullius made his way through the crowd and up to where Burz was standing. He held up his sword and let out a yell of victory. All of the Legion soldiers let out a great yell in triumph. The Stormcloaks began to drop their weapons. There was no need to fight any longer. They had been defeated.

* * *

Burz woke with another gasp. The sun was coming through the windows. Bright and shining. Ghorza had made him a good hearty breakfast to help fuel him on his long journey. He couldn't hide his guilt for his wife. She knew him too well. "My love, you do not have to tell me what is troubling you. I know that doesn't take away the weight that is on your heart. But my clan had a saying. 'No orc nor man escapes a conflict without bringing home more than he took.' It is natural to regret things. But you must look at the victory and smile. You did what had to be done."

"But was it a victory, my darling?" He asked as he walked to the large stone table.

"What does that mean? You stopped a madman. You brought peace to the Empire." She answered without a doubt for her husband.

"But what did we gain? All we are is a puppet to the Thalmor. Would it have been better under Ulfric?"

"Ulfric had no love for anything that wasn't a Nord. And he could not stop the Aldmeri with just his Stormcloaks. He needed the Empire, he just did not know it. You did what was right, my love. It was a victory." She assured him as she placed his breakfast on the table. He gave a heavy sigh as he let her words sink in.

"I suppose you are right my dear. It is just... difficult to forget the lives I took." He said this heavily. He narrowed his eyes as he burrowed his gave deep in the eggs that Ghorza had prepared him. He ate quickly. Jarls Igmund was preparing to send him off soon. "Argis!" He called for his housecarl.

"Yes my Thane?" A tall Nord called as he came into the dining room.

"Watch after my Ghorza while I am away," The orc ordered. It would be the first time he had been gone for longer than a day since they wed.

"Yes my Thane. Safe travels." Argis said with the highest respect. At one time he had wished to be a decorated soldier like Burz, but he found he was much better at protecting a life than taking many. Burz gathered his things and embraced his wife with a lasting hug. There were no words. Orcs didn't waste time expressing emotions they felt to be clear. And for the two lovers, this would not be goodbye. They would see each other again. Either in life, or in Malacath's embrace. He made his way out the door giving one lingering look back before closing the door.

Down in the town market place, just outside the Silver-Blood Inn waited nearly half the town. The Jarl and his associates were gathered in a semi-circle to meet him. The young Currier-soldier was waiting with them. Burz saw the Silver-Blood family with their leech friend Nepos. Burz always had a strange feeling about that old man. There was just something not right about the Breton. Burz figured it had something to do with the Silver-Blood bastards.

"Burz gro Ka! It is good to see you, my friend! And it is sad to see that you will be leaving us." Jalr Igmund called out when he saw the orc warrior coming down the city steps to the market place. He walked up to meet him with a handshake. Burz took the weak hand and thought about how frail it seemed for a Jarl of the Reach. He also thought if they were such good friends why he never invited him and Ghorza over for dinner. Or when he came to the Jarl for any help, Igmund never had much to offer his 'most prized thane.'

"Hello Jarl." Burz said very coldly. The Jarl would mistake that as just typical orc emotion when it was really Burz's distaste for the man coming through. The Silver-Bloods came over and feigned kindness.

"Hello, Dragonborn. You have been keeping Kleppr busy, and been supplying me a healthy supply of gold," Thongvor said with sly grin.

"The least you could do is stock him with some Black-Briar instead of that blasted Honningbrew." Burz muttered.

"Yes, well... We don't like the company she keeps. As you can understand." He replied, losing his grin. Just then the court wizard, Calcelmo, approached. Burz was mildly surprised to see him crawl out of his cave, but then again, he and Burz had what they both considered to be a friendship, as unlikely as the pairing seemed to others. Burz couldn't help but let a slight grin escape him.

"Hello Burz. Markarth will be missing a great orc, and a powerful ally." Calcelmo said very plainly. "I know your wife must be sorrowful."

"She is, but she knows my duty. And it is not good bye for us." Burz replied.

"That is good to hear, friend. I am glad you are in good spirts." The two shook hands with slight smiles. The others looked on in slight confusion. They just didn't understand how the two men showed their emotions. Burz saw Kleppr and walked over to him. Over the years Kleppr had become a fierce friend to the orc. He could not leave with out thanking him.

"Kleppr... You have helped me through many trying times in my years here. You have made this grey city a little brighter for this tired warrior. Thank you for all you have done for me." Burz said in earnest. He tried to show the old Nord his his sincerity.

"Why... Thank you Burz. I never knew how much I meant to you. I am honored to count you among my closest friends." Kleppr said in a shocked voice. He grabbed Burz's hand and gave a respectful shake.

Burz turned to face the crowd that had amassed. "My dear people of Markarth, you welcomed me into your keep after a long fight against the Stormcloaks. At a time when I was just wanted for what I had done, you invited me for who I was instead. All the other holds wanted me to do things for them. They expected many things of me. But the Reach... You asked me here for nothing. No expectations, just giving. It has been my honor serving as your Thane and protecting you as the Legion's Legate. I greatly miss you, and your hospitality. Thank you all." Burz said, halfheartedly. It was true that they had welcomed the decorated hero in with open arms, and did not ask anything of him in return. But in his 10 years in the hold, he was not treated with much kindness. Although Markarth had officially sided with the Empire, the citizens had a strong loyalty to the Stormcloaks. They accepted him because the Jarl excepted him.

Burz lifted his hand in a goodbye wave as he turned his back on the city and walked towards the city gates. His future.


	3. Chapter 3: True Motivation

Chapter 3- True Motivation

The next few days passed by very quickly. When he reached Solitude, Tullius told Burz all he had been planning. Why the Legion had been stationed in Skyrim so long. Titus Mede II had been keeping Tullius in Skyrim all this time to keep him away from the Thalmor to plan without their tallons sinking in to every move he made. And he had a brilliant plan indeed.

* * *

"First thing first, we _must_ unite all the provinces we can. High Rock has virtually been untouched. They are the only province completely in tact right now." Said the old war-wise voice of General Tullius.

"But the Bretons have fought each other for centuries. How are we to unite them?" Asked a young Nord Legate. Tullius's second in command, Legate Rikke.

"We have the Dragonborn, Legate Rikke. Burz, is Odahviing still loyal?" The general asked as he turned to Burz.

"He is. And we have Paarthurnax and his followers." The orc replied. "Paarthurnax will likely not leave High Hrothgar, but he can spare some of his kin." Burz's voice was sore from the many conversations that had happened over the past few days.

"I do not see how violence will unite the Bretons," Legate Rikke voiced her confusion.

"I am not sending him to fight. We will convince them of the power we have, and Burz can broker an allegiance. If he got Ulfric and I to call a temporary treaty to fight Alduin, I trust he can bring peace in High Rock. They have always focused heavily on legend and prophecy. They would jump at the chance to fight with the killer of The World Eater." Tullius said with a smirk.

"Now, Legate Rikke and I have been hard at work restoring order in Windhelm. Particularly for the Dunmer. We have been forging peace between them and the Nords there. Now, it is impossible to dissolve the kind of hate the two have had for each other in a decade, but I think the remaining Dunmer will be able to see the benefits of helping restore the Empire."

"Good! Good," replied Burz, enthusiastic.

"The last phase of unifying the provinces. Hammerfell. They should be the easiest to convince as they already have strong hate for the Dominion. All we need to do is get them to agree to fight _with _us rather than just fight."

"Shouldn't be too difficult. The Redguards have no quarrel with the Empire." Replied Rikke.

"The most complicated part will be doing all this without alerting the Thalmor that are here in Skyrim. If they send word to the Dominion before we are ready, our ship will be sunk before we even get out of the harbor. I must stay here as to not raise suspicion, and we can not harbor any extra soldiers here. Burz, when you speak with the Bretons, we will send them to Winterhold. The Thalmor will see this as a heightened interest in the College for obvious reasons. And after the Ancano incident, they have steered clear of sending 'Advisers' to the College. The Dunmer can slowly make their way to Windhelm and Winterhold. The College will do all they can to train in magical combat, and defense."

"Riften can harbor excess soldiers. So we can spread people out more." Maven Black-Briar chimed in. She was here 'on business' for her meadery.

"Thank you Maven. Which brings me to phase two. The battle plan. Once we get Hammerfell to agree to fight, they will launch an 'independent' attack with some of the Breton tribes. This will give the illusion that The Redguards are restarting their campaign without Empire support as to not raise the alarm on the Legion forces. While the Dominion is focused on Hammerfell in the west, our main force will enter into the abandoned Morrowind. The Dunmer will be our guide. From there we will turn south, heading to The Black Marsh. Once there, we attempt to sway the Argonians to join us. If not, the fighting will begin there. From there we snake our way to Elsweyr. And we continue on fighting as far as we can. Hopefully the brunt of the Dominion forces will still be holed up in Hamerfell, granting us limited resistance. Once we get to Valenwood, we circle back up to Hammerfell, sandwiching the main army of the Dominion. From there, our remaining forces in the heart of Cyrodiil will head west to keep the Dominion from fleeing inland. Once we control the main land of Tamriel once again, we send the navy to fight the cut off Summerset Isle." When Tullius finished the room was silent. He stood up from the map he had been pointing to and looked at the faces staring blankly at him. It was High Queen Elisif that spoke first.

"General Tullius... This plan is... Masterful. If it works, you will go down in history as a strategist that would rival Talos himself..." Her soft but sure words trailed off.

"Well, I wouldn't accept divinity," He said with a laugh to lighten the mood. The others in the room laughed quietly. They slowly stood up to get a better look at the map. Legate Rikke let her hand guide her eyes through Tullius's plan. Seeing if there was a flaw.

"What if the Dominion becomes aware of our forces moving east?" Legate Rikke asked.

"We hope they don't. It is a major risk, I know. But our entire plan rides on the Redguards selling their independent rebellion. If the Dominion gets any premature wind of what we are up to, it will come down to who has the better army at that point. The only advantage we have is strategy. The Dominion is so damn sure of themselves they don't bother with strategy." Tullius said, losing his smile.

"It's a risk we have to take." Maven stated. "I'm no warrior, or strategist, but from what I see, there is no other way. It is like a Tcaesi constricting the neck of it's prey. We cut off the main land, the Altimer will have no supplies, weakening them for when we sail over. The Khajiit and Bosmer are not the strength of their army. If we can hit them alone, they will fall to our combined armies." For a simple mead tycoon from Riften, she was proving to be a very good Jarl. Even if she was corrupt.

It was time for Burz to speak up. "We also have the only remaining chapter of the Dark Brotherhood in Skyrim." The others turned and stared in confusion. "They once had chapters in every province. Until the Aldmeri Dominion took hold of the Empire. I am not them, but I can say if I were their leader, I would jump at the chance to reestablish my group."

"That... Is not a bad idea, Dragonborn. A handful of skilled assassins could prove useful." Legate Rikke said with a smile. "And I think we forgot our secret weapon. We have the Dragonborn and his dragon army." The others' faces lit up. In all the strategic talk they had forgotten to account for one thing: the incalculable. They had a stronger will and droves of more experienced soldiers. The feeling in the room began to lighten. 'They could do this. We can do this,' Burz thought.

The party began to disperse one by one as to not raise suspicion. That would be their lives in the months to come. Living in a state of precaution they were not used to. Usually letting the Thalmor in on their plans was not a problem. They had never planned anything against the Thalmor personally. Burz left Castle Dour to go stay at the Bards College. His task was to appear as though he had joined their ranks, being an ex soldier with many stories to tell. The Headmaster knew of course this was not true, but the others did not.

* * *

"Legate Rikke, as it was in the last war, you know if I die, you are to assume command." Tullius said once the others had left.

"Yes, General, but do not speak that way." Rikke replied, her smile fading.

"Once the heavy fighting begins, I will be a top target for assassins, Rikke. Even more so than in the rebellion. And I am getting old. I can not fight the way I used to." He said while sitting down. He had been standing far too much today. His feet hurt.

"Yes, but General.."

"And I know it should be your choice who succeeds yourself, but I must make a suggestion. Consider it my dying wish, should it come to it. The Dragonborn should take your place." Tullius cut her off. She stared for a second as she thought about what he had said.

"Yes sir. If needed I will take your place, and Burz gro Ka will be promoted." She said as she made her salute and walked out of the door. General Tullius sat in his chair a few moments more, looking about the empty room. His eyes settled on the large map in the center of the room. He let out a heavy sigh.

"Talos guide me."


	4. Chapter 4: The Confession

**History challenge! 10 awesome points to whoever can tell me what famous war strategy General Tullius was using in Chapter 3! I'll give you a hint, it was from the American Civil War.**

* * *

Chapter 4: The Confession

"Dovahkiin?" An old but strong voice asked.

"Arngeir," Burz said with a smile.

"Dovahkiin, come in... Come in!" The Greybeard said excitedly. Burz walked up the old stone steps. The old man opened the door wider for the large orc. "The hour is late, and the weather fierce. What brings you to High Hrothgar after all these years?"

"There is a storm brewing, Master Arngeir." Burz replied. His expression became solemn.

"I see. But first I have questions for you. You never completed your training. You gave us your word you would continue your training once the Rebellion was over, yet you have not step foot on this mount since your confrontation with Ulfric. What has kept you?" Arngeir asked. His expression was blank, but Burz could sense sadness in his eyes.

"Master, I am sorry. I have no good excuse. You see, I settled down in Markarth after the war, and have been there since." Burz admitted. His head hung slightly.

"Then what has kept you, Dovahkiin? Paarthurnax will be grateful to see you again."

"Guilt my Master. Guilt has kept me from this place." His head hung lower.

"What kind of guilt could keep you from completing your training?"

"Master, as you have said, the hour is late. Might we discuss this in the morning with the rest?"

"Of course young one. Rest as much as you need."

* * *

Burz did not sleep well that night. Thoughts of what he would say to the Greybeards kept racing through his mind. How would he admit that he let his hate get the better of him. He had misused the power of his Thu'um. He slowly feel into a deep sleep.

He awoke with a deep breath. The sun was streaming through the windows as Burz looked around. His bed felt moist to the touch. He looked down at his bed with confusion. "You sweat profusely last night. You were tossing and turning all night, Dovahkiin. Come, the others are gathered. Tell us what is troubling you." Arngeir said softly as he came into the room. Burz nodded and stood up and began to dress. He and Arngeir walked outside and up to the top of the Throat of the World. Paarthurnax and the rest of the Greybeards were gathered to hear what Burz had to say. Even Odahviing was present with a few other dragons.

"Ah. Dovahkiin. It is... Good to see you once again. I feared I would not see you again before death stole you away." The old familiar voice of Paathurnax said. He lowered his head to be level with Burz. "Now tell us. What has kept you from us?"

"Master Paarthurnax. I apologize for my absence. I felt I could not return due to my guilt." Burz admitted. His heart was beating hard in his chest, and his lungs seemed to have forgotten how to function.

"But what do you have guilt for, young one?" Arngeir asked.

"My Masters, I have strayed from the Way. The war... It was difficult on me. I should not have left your tutelage before I was ready." Burz said. His expression was solemn.

"How have you strayed? This is what we do not understand." Paarthurnax spoke. His eyes were narrow.

"In my final conflict with Ulfric I let my temper control me. I misused my voice. I destroyed Ulfric Stormcloak and defiled him with my Thu'um. And then I hid this from you." Burz said as he hung his head. He was choking back rare orc tears.

"This is unexpected, Dovahkiin. But just as we lived to guide Talos, we must guide you. Talos is depicted as being free of mistake. As if he could do no wrong, but I assure you, he made plenty of mistakes. We are happy to take you back and guide you. You are Dovahkiin. You are not bound by the Way as I teach my followers." Paarthurnax said with what Burz thought was a smile. His tone was reassuring.

"We are more forgiving than you give us credit for, Burz gro Ka." This was the first time Arngeir had used his regular name. Arngeir smiled. "Now, I assume you did not come simply to confess. If you had, you would have been here a decade ago."

"I was asked to request your aid in a war, Paarthunax." Burz stated, looking into the eyes of his Dragon master.

"Dovahkiin, you know we do not concern ourselves in mortal matters." Paarthurnax stated with surprise.

"I know my master. And I would not have come if I were not worried for your safety. We are in opposition to the Aldmeri Dominion."

"The elves you told me about? Why should you worry about them threatening our safety?" Arngeir asked. His expression was quizzical. Living on a mountain top for decades had erased much of what he knew about the world.

"The Empire has never concerned itself with your dealings since learning of your existence. The Aldmeri however, are. They would see to it that you and the remaining dragons that reside here were killed. And they would not care about the cost." Burz said.

"We would be in the same danger if we were to go to war, Dovahkiin. You know this. How would we save ourselves by putting ourselves in danger?" Paarthurnax raised his head. It seemed his neck was tired of the lowered position.

"You would be fighting with the Legion. You would not be alone. And for the Legion to win, we need you. I need you, Master. Please heed my call." Burz bowed to his Dragon master. A respect he had not yet shown. Paarthurnax stared at Burz for a few moments. He was thinking about the Dragonborn's request.

"It had been centuries since I have flown in battle, Dovahkiin. But your words speak truth. You have my wings. I shall bring with me all of my kin. What would you have me do first?" Burz look at him with amazement. Even Arngeir had a look of shock. Paarthurnax would fight for the Empire.

"First, we will need to fly to High Rock. We must convince the Bretons to fight by our side as well." Burz said, a smile spreading across his face.

"Ah, High Rock. It has been a long time since I have been there. I have a friend there. Similar to Arngeir. We should seek his council in the state of High Rock's citizens." Paarthurnax said. Odahviing flew over to where they were.

"Dovahkiin, you already know this, but I shall fight by your side as well." The Red Dragon said.

"I can not express my gratitude, my friends." Burz said, a large smile grew on his face. "But thank you for your support." He had not expected to convince Paarthurnax so easily. It seemed the Divines were indeed on the Legion's side.

"As I said before, Dovahkiin, we will always support you." Paarthurnax said.

"Until you prove to be unworthy to lead as Alduin had, I shall follow you till my dying day." Odahviing rumbled. It was good to have such a loyal warrior on his side. "Now, to Hammerfell? I am dying to pick me teeth of mer's armor." He began flapping his wings in excitement. Burz and the dragons began to laugh while The Greybeards left. They had always been a little stiff in Burz's opinion. He thought it had been Paarthurnax's influence, but after getting to know the dragon, he found this was not the case.

"Let us wait until tomorrow my friend. I am sure the Dovahkiin is still tired from his journey here. We should let ourselves have time to prepare." Paarthunax said after the three were done laughing. Burz enjoyed his time on the Throat of the World. He felt at home among the Dovah. It must be his dragon blood coursing through his veins.

"I see... Well, don't keep me waiting." Odahviing stated in a frustrated tone as he began to fly away. Paarthurnax laughed at this. He turned his head to Burz and nodded. He began to flap his wings to catch wind and lift himself into the air. Burz stood on the mountains peak, breathing in the crisp Skyrim air. He felt more at ease about what was to come. He felt that he might return to Ghorza after only a year or two. He would get to live out his elder years with his love in his arms as a free man, with free men around him. Then a cynical thought entered his mind. No matter the outcome of the war, he would never be free. No one would ever really be free. They would always live under the thumb of what ever government was in place. No matter who ruled, there would never be peace. There would always be some group looking to contest the throne. Some group would want power.

But at least he could have a temporary peace with the woman he loved, and he could know that he helped create this peace. He was doing the right thing.


	5. Chapter 5: Rise of House Rendar

**I am sorry for how long this took to get out. I have begun moving and will be starting school back up in a few weeks, so my posts will be slowing down. But I hope you still enjoy reading! This is kind of a short, but important chapter. I hope you like it!**

* * *

Chapter 5- Rise of House Rendar

"And why should the Dark Elves help the Nords?" Said a raspy voice.

"You won't just be helping the Nords, you will be helping to restore the Empire." Legate Rikke answered.

"What is in for us? Wouldn't it be better for us to have Mer in charge?" The raspy voice asked. A gray-blue hand lowered a tankard of mead. The hour was late, and the fire was low. The inn was dark and cascaded with shadows. The owner of the voice took a puff on his tobacco roll, the burning end simmering and getting brighter as he inhaled. The smoke he blew out swirled around his glowing red eyes. The scene looked rather sinister.

"You know as well as I do that the Altmer will not treat you any better than the humans. Look at how they treat the Bosmer. They are only looking to empower themselves. Not unlike Ulfric Stormcloak." Rikke smirked at herself. She know saying that name would spark some emotion in the Dunmer that sat in front of her.

"I see. But why come to me?"

"The Dunmer look up to you, Ambarys. You are their leader here in Windhelm. And I know you have connections with Dunmer groups through out the province of Skyrim. We need you and your people, and I know you can unite them." This made the man lean forward in his chair, and brought his face into a ray of light. His face was a dark, smokey gray. He was clean cut, and had a particularly smooth face for a Dark Elf. His eyes were the eerie red that was typical of Dark Elves. He did not look like a leader, but he had his hand in most Dunmer dealing through out the land.

"Your flatter is welcome. And I suppose we do owe the Empire some gratitude. Things here in Windhelm have gotten better. We even have some of our kind in the upper districts. And Malthyr is even in the court. He is Brunwulf's steward." He said, more to himself than to Rikke. She already knew, of course. "But we will need to... Make a few conditions to form an allegiance."

"Yes, of course Ambarys. We would not expect you to commit your people so easily. We can provide what you want. With in reason." Legate Rikke said. She was wary of what he would request, but this was not unexpected.

"First off, we need help rebuilding our home. Red Mountain killed many of my kind, and left our land in ruin. It has been a decade. Our lands are habitable once more, but we are too few to rebuild ourselves. We need Empire funds and workers. And we want our way of lives back. The Empire left us alone for the most part in the days of old. We would like that again." He said with a sigh. Rikke wasn't sure if this was all he wanted, but she understood. After the eruption, the Dark Elves not only lost their home, but their ways of life. She remembered when the dragons first returned She had been so afraid that Skyrim would burn, and she would never be able to return.

"I can not make promises on my own, but I will try with all I have to help you and your people return home, Ambarys. You have my word." The Dark Elf smiled at this. He extended his hand to shake in respect to the Nord. Rikke returned. "Now, how much for a bed? It is late, and I am weary."

"For you? Nothing. Just go on up, my dear." Ambarys said with a smile. He had a new hope for he and his people, and it was showing.

* * *

"Have you gotten word from any of the tribes yet?" Rikke asked with frustration. It had been nearly a month, and no word from any of the Dark Elves outside of Windhelm. The good feelings they had felt that night was all but dissolved. Burz had united the Breton tribes, and secured an alliance with the dragons, and was currently speaking with the Al'akir. Was Tullius right in making her his successor? She had to shake these feelings. She could accomplish this. Post was just moving slow these days.

"I have gotten nothing yet. I do not know what is taking so long. Maybe our promises have fallen on deaf ears," Ambarys said. His tone was cold. He could see his dreams of return were fading. He had been to Refugees' Rest almost weekly to pay his respects, and on a rare clear day, he could see Morrowind.

"Has the Currier been today?" Rikke asked in desperation.

"No, not yet," Ambarys said with an edge of hope. But as the days passed, he lost more and more.

Suddenly there was a knock on the door. Ambarys got up to go answer while Rikke headed to another room. She couldn't be caught here by Thalmor. Ambarys opened the door once Rikke was out of sight, and met with the Currier. "Hello, what do you have for me today?" He asked.

"Sir, you have quite a bit! I came here first to get rid of it all! Are you planning a party or something?" He laughed as he reached into his bag and pulled out a few letters and handed them to Ambarys. 'This is it?' he thought. Then the Currier reached in and grabbed more. He did this a few times until he had handed the Dark Elf hundreds of small envelopes. Ambarys stood in disbelief as he watched the Currier walk away. His hope began to bubble back up as he let out a yell to the Legate. Together they began tearing through paper and reading the responses. It was an overwhelming hour or so. They had managed to unite the Dark Elves and create a powerful ally. Ambarys would once again see his home.


	6. Chapter 6: Catching Madness

**This next chapter will break cannon a little bit. You will know what I mean when you read. Don't wanna give anything away! Sorry it has taken so long! I have had a little writers block, mixed with a hectic schedule!  
**

* * *

Chapter 6- Catching Madness

It had been a few weeks since the Dark Elves had started to respond to the Legion's call. The word had spread so successful that even a high number of Dunmer that Ambarys did not know about were showing up at the gates of Windhelm. Legate Rikke stayed to help handle the influx of population. She had developed a fondness for the race.

It was summer now, and the snow had receded. Windhelm looked almost like Whiterun in the semi-warm weather. Rikke was enjoying the warmer weather, and often took walks at night when her duties of the day were taken care of.

* * *

"Things are moving quite fast now. We just need to check on Winterhold's status. We should be able to launch the attack by the end of this week." Tullius said with a smile. His audience was High Queen Elisif and her court. Burz was also in attendance. He had been named 3rd in command upon his return from Hammerfell. The audience nodded and began to smile. The mood in Solitude had been tense and dark the past few months, and this was the breakthrough they needed. It seemed like things were going a little too easily, but Tullius gladly accepted what ever blessing the divines would grant him.

The room began to empty, people were shaking the General's hand as they left. Burz smiled and gave a hefty shake as he left the room. Once they all had left, Tullius's smile left. He was tired. Happy and relived, but very tired. His age was catching up with his work ethic. He went to sit in his chair and muse over the next phase of the plan.

* * *

"Ambarys! I am going out! I will be back soon!" Legate Rikke called up the stairs. Night had fallen on Windhelm, and Rikke was ready for her nightly walk. She stepped out of the door and was greeted with orange-yellow streaks of light radiating from the west. It was cloudless this evening and the colors were extraordinarily rich.

She walked up the stone steps to the Stone Quarter and glanced at Candlehearth Hall. The windows had an orange glow in them, preparing for the coming night. Rikke heard a light thump on the stone steps behind her and turned to see what it was, but her eyes met an empty alley.

* * *

Gerneral Tullius woke with a startle. He must have fallen asleep in his chair. He looked around the room to see if any one had come to check on him. There was nothing but shadows with bits of silver light licking at the darkness. How long had he been asleep? He went to the window and saw the moon low to the east. It couldn't have been late. He turned back to look at the room again. Shadows. But out of the corner of his eye he saw one dance across the moon lit floor. Something had moved.

He moved to the table to light a candle to inspect the room. He decided to try a small flame spell the Winterhold Arch-Mage had taught him. He snapped his fingers and a small flame engulfed the wick. He then felt a sharp pain between his ribs, and then a searing burn spread through his chest like a line of ants flowing through his veins. He turned his head slowly as the world faded to black. His gaze fell on a female Argonian. He shuddered as he took a last breath and fell to the floor.

* * *

The sky was dark now, but the moon was bright enough to keep Rikke from wondering. She had made her way around Windhelm twice already and was working on a third. The weather was still cold, but it wasn't the usual biting cold. To her Nordic skin it felt warm. The townsfolk had all gone home, and she had the streets to herself. She looked in Candlehearth Hall as she passed it again. Black silhouettes danced in the windows as the flames of the candles flickered. It seemed like it was full tonight.

As she made her way by the cemetery she heard a bump in the dirt. She had been hearing strange noises all evening. She placed her hand on the hilt of her sword as she entered the misty cemetery. Something about graves always seemed to provoke a fog. She was looking hard as the walls of Windhelm were blocking the bright moonlight from reaching the cemetery. Rikke wished she remembered the candle light spell she had been taught by her brother as a girl. She made her way around the graves. She started to hear iron scraping on stone. Before she knew it, she was at the door to the Hall of the Dead.

"Hello Imperial puppet," A bone chilling voice came from behind. The Legate spun around as she drew her sword. Her eyes met with a slender woman in black. Her skin was white as snow, and her eyes were dark. There were golden strands of hair peaking out of a black hood over an obvious Nord face. Legate Rikke was unsure of what to do. She recognized the armor. If the rumors were true, she should already be dead.

"Don't worry, you will survive this night. My mother does not ask for your blood, Nord. I am here to speak with you. On behalf of my Listener, I must ask you, what business does the Empire have with the Dark Brotherhood this time?" The cold voice asked. She was a part of the Brotherhood.

"We did not perform a Sacrament. We have no business with you," Rikke replied.

"Our Night Mother hears more the just rituals, soldier. She knows of The Empire's wishes to contact us. Do not hide that fact."

"Why did you not go to General Tullius? He is in charge of the Legion's army. Shouldn't you be speaking with him?" Rikke asked, remembering the plan to ask the Dark Brotherhood for aid.

"I would love to, but I am no Necromancer. I can not commune with the dead." The woman said with a smirk. Rikke's jaw dropped.

"What do you mean? General Tullius is alive, in Solitude!"

"Oh my dear. My mother called for his demise tonight. That is what is keeping my Listener... engaged at the moment."

Rikke was speechless. The General had been assassinated, and his killers had sought her out on the same night.

* * *

Burz knocked on Castle Dour's door. General Tullius had missed dinner, and had not been seen leaving. He received no answer, and pushed on the door. It was open. He opened the door and made his way into the dark room. There was a small glow of light coming from the map room. Burz made his way to the light and saw a body on the floor. He turned it over and looked in horror as his General's lifeless eyes stared back into his. He let out a yell for help, his voice was muffled as guards stormed in. His arms and legs felt numb as he stumbled to his feet, only to fall back to his knees. Guards started shouting, as the room was flooded with torch light. Burz burried his face in his hands.

* * *

"You mean to tell me that you killed General Tullius, and then came to find me, with that smug grin on your face?" Rikke finally found her voice.

"Dear, I had already found you, and I assure you, I have yet to spill blood tonight. It was nothing personal. Just... business," The woman said. Her voice as cold as the Winterhold air. "Besides, from what I hear, you are now in charge. A reason to celebrate if you ask me." Her smirk grew to a smile.

"How do you know..."

"That you were next in line? It's not exactly a secret. Especially when it is your job to know such things," She said with a laugh. Could Rikke be this naive? "So what would you ask of The Brotherhood, General?" She lingered on the word General.

"First, I need to know who you are," Rikke said sternly.

"Now you sound like a person with authority," She said with a smile. "I am Astrid, a member of the Dark Brotherhood's Black Hand."


	7. Chapter 7: Catching Madness Part 2

**Hey guys! Sorry for my sojourn. This past semester at school was pretty rough, and I didn't have a lot of time to write. I will hopefully get a few chapters out during this winter break. Thank you for being so patient and not giving up on me!**

Chapter 7- Catching Madness: Part Two

Solitude guards flooded the streets from Castle Dour. Their general had been slain, and the killer was on the loose. Burz sat in the general's chair. He tried to make sense of what was happening. He had left the general alone, and now he was dead. Who could have done this? He glanced at the stiff body once more. He noticed a strange mark on his neck. Burz stood and turned Tullius's head to reveal a black hand print on the general's neck. Tucked into his armor was a note. Burz pulled the note out and read. The writing was small and frantic looking.

"My associate is contacting your new general tonight. We know of your intentions to contact us, and would like to hear your contract. Do not take this as an unwillingness to cooperate. It was just business. -Listener"

Burz felt a rage well up within him. The Brotherhood had the nerve to kill their general, and accept a contract from the Empire? He felt a low growl in his chest. He had to contain his Thu'um. He called in some guards and showed them the letter. "It is unlikely we will catch some one as skilled as the Listener, sir" One guard said.

"I don't care who you are looking for. It's just another man, like you or me. We can find him."

* * *

"Astrid... How do we know we can trust you?" Rikke asked the dark form in front of her.

"My child, if we were not trust worthy, we would be out of business. We do the Night Mother's bidding, and her bidding is to prosper." Astrid said as her smile faded back to a smirk. "I can assure you, no more of the Empire's blood will be shed as long as we are under your contract."

Rikke thought a moment about the matter. "I would like to speak with your Listener." She said quickly.

"I thought you would. She will be here by midnight tomorrow. As you can imagine, she has a long journey."

"How will I know who she is?"

"She is... A unique individual. No like most. She is an Argonian descendant of Sheogarath, Prince of Madness." Astrid's smile came back to her pale face. Her red lipstick glimmered in the moonlight.

"A Daedric Prince? How"

"Many moons ago, their was a crisis in the Shivering Isles, Sheogorath's plane of Oblivion. My Listener's grandfather, Al-Suan found himself transported to the island and fought off Jyggalag, the Prince of Order. He just so happened to be Sheogorath's alter ego. In his dying breath, Sheogorath granted Al-Suan his power, and title as Daedric Prince of Madness. This has had an interesting effect on my Listener. You will know." Astrid jumped onto the city wall and climbed away. Rikke called after her, with questions still buzzing in her head. But it was too late. Astrid was gone.

* * *

The next night, Rikke went on a later than usual walk. The sun had long since dipped below the mountains, and darkness had taken the land. The clouds were out in force, and covered the moon's light. Rikke had a hard time seeing her hand at the end of her arm. She did not know where the Brotherhood's Listener would meet her, but she made her way the graveyard where Astrid had met her. Maybe a graveyard was an assassin's favorite meeting spot?

The graveyard was once again covered in mist, and gave Rikke chills. She walked around, holding her candle out so she could see farther. The darkness seemed to swallow her candle light right up. She began to hear footsteps all around her, and scrapes of steel on stone. She looked frantically around, but could see nothing in the engulfing darkness. She knew she wasn't alone, but where was the Listener? Had Astrid tricked her into being an easy target? She felt a cold hand on the nape of her neck close and spin her around. Her eyes were drawn into a reptilian face. The eyes glowed a dark green, and the skin was cold and moist. Rikke's candle light danced on the dim purple of the Argonian scales.

"Do you like sweet rolls?" Asked a chilling voice.

"Wha?" Rikke could barely speak out of fear.

"I said... Do you like sweet rolls?" The voice warmed as it's owner backed away and pulled a bag out of a knapsack. "I have an uncle... Well... Had an uncle who loved sweet rolls. I make em all the time for him. But he died the last time I visited Pappy. Don't know why I still make them... Who will I give them to if you don't eat them?"

Rikke stood dumb founded. She didn't know what to say. "I hope I didn't scare you too bad. It was just a game! I could have made you squeal, but Mother didn't ask me too! Plus, I don't like the smell. Unless you went number two before your walk!" The voice began to ramble about the dirty side of murder.

"Are you the Listener? What is your name, Argonian?" Rikke asked, making sure her voice was strong.

"Oh... Found your brave, did you? Good... Good... Now we speak. I am Al-Sien, The Mistress Listener of my rag-tag Brotherhood! The war has been hard on us, and we want to settle those nasty elves into the ground. We know you were planning to do that. Mother wishes us to help." The Argonian spoke with almost child like playfulness.

"How did you know..."

"Mother knows much! And what Mother doesn't know, Pappy tells, too!" Al-Sien interrupted.

"Who is Pappy?" Rikke asked, almost knowing the answer. But she had to hear it.

"Pappy Suan! Or, as my brothers know him, Listener Al-Suan. Or as you mortals know him, Sheogorath, Prince of Awesome! Or... Madness? I never remember with you people."

"So, you are related to Sheogorath? And he was a Listener too?" Rikke asked. She was astonished at how childlike Al-Sien seemed. She had imagined her to be much more intimidating.

"YYYYYYYYYYEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEESS SSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS SSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS!" She hissed. "He was, and my daddy was, and then I was! Is... Am? Well, we all Listen to Mother. Well... Now Pappy does more than listen... if you know what I mean..." She said with a wink. "He speaks! Mind in the gutter, you have!" Al-Sien jumped on Rikke and took her to the ground as she pulled out a poison tipped dagger. "Now don't let your guard down! Huh?" Al-Sien screamed.

Rikke tried throwing the Argonian off of her, but couldn't get a grip. They wrestled for a few moments until Al-Sien jumped off and burst into laughter. "You should have seen your face! You thought I was going to kill you! I can't do that! We have a contract! Or do we? We didn't say yet..." She suddenly got very serious, "Don't EVER let your guard down again, or I'll slip my blade in." Her voice became like ice. "Do we work together now?"

Rikke could not tell if it was all an act, or if Al-Sien was truly mad, but she knew they had to make a deal. "Yes, we have a contract."

"Good," Al-Sien said with a big smile. She began to laugh as she climbed the wall and left Rikke standing alone in the graveyard once again. She felt as though her mind had been assaulted. She also realized that they had not discussed payment, or what the Legion needed of the Brotherhood. She walked back to the Grey Quarter slowly. She still could not see well, and didn't want to trip. She was also making sure she would not be ambushed.

* * *

Burz laid in bed. He could not sleep knowing that some one had murdered his general in Castle Dour. How did they get through the guards? He got out of bed and walked to the fire place. He struck a small fire spell to the logs, and soon had a roaring fire. He glared into the flames for a long while, trying to rid his mind of the lifeless eyes glaring into his. He and Rikke would now be the ones leading the charge. The war was drawing close, and he realized he had not seen his wife in over a year now. Not since he left Markarth. A tear welled up in his eye.

A cold hand reached up his back to his shoulder. Sharp claws dug into his shoulder and spun him around to see a small Argonian woman starring at him. She was in Brotherhood attire. She pushed her hand onto his mouth, hard. "Ah ah ah... We need to stay quiet. Don't want an alarm. Mother just wants a talk." The Argonian said in a hushed tone. "Don't be mad, bid bad orc. I didn't kill him to make you mad! I did it because Mother wanted it." Burz's eyes flared in rage. It was Tullius's killer! She must have come back to kill him too.

"I know you're a screamer, but please don't!" She had felt his Thu'um rumbling in his chest. "50,000 gold now, and 100,000 when we are done is what Mother wants. You need us to make madness in the Aldmeri Courts. We know how! You can not do it from the battlefield. We slip in, cut some necks, give gold to Mother. We shall keep some for ourselves, yes? But that is the stake you make with us. We know your targets. We have been to the meetings, and never spoke. We do what we are told, no mess. I can make this promise: your people shall not die by our hands till the contract is met. What do ya say, pal?"

Burz stopped his struggle and looked quizzically at the Argonian. She lowered her hand for him to speak. "You killed General Tullius?"

"That is the question you ask? I thought that was obvious... And they call ME mad?" She laughed.

"You should pay for what you did," Burz felt the rage again.

"Now what did I say about screaming? This was supposed to be a quicky. Do I need to invite Handsy for another kiss?" She asked with a smile.

"50,000 now, and 100,000 when the war is over. And you promise not to kill any more of us?" Burz asked.

"While we are under contract, yes... That is kind of the key, wouldn't you say?"

"Well, I make this promise to you: once the contract is up, I am hunting you down. We are not friends." Burz said with a snarl.

"Oh me oh my, I have plenty of friends! You just can't see them... They are up here," She pointed to her head, "I didn't want a friend! And you can try, but you wont see me again unless Mother wishes it. Promise number two! I promise that is all! Oops... Promise three..." She said with a giggle. She leaped off of Burz and jumped to the window seal. "The name is Al-Sien, and killing is my game!" She exclaimed with a wink as she leaped out of the window. Burz rushed to catch a glimpse of Al-Sien as she escaped, but she was already gone when he got to the window. All he could see is the rustling water of the sea hitting the jagged rocks below.


	8. Chapter 8: The Magic of War

Chapter 8- The Magic of War

"The Arch-Mage will see you now," A beautiful young dark elf said as she opened the door for Burz. She had a sweet voice that flowed like golden honey from her blue lips. He had never thought much of other races, but he could admit to the beauty of this particular elf. But her hips couldn't bear the stress of birthing a true orc child, he thought. He could tell she was more eye candy than a mage. He walked up the stone steps to the Arch-Mage's office. It was a large, circular room with many lights and colors. He began to look for the mage in the expansive office.

"Hello? HELLO?" Burz called. He began looking in the alchemy garden that was growing in the middle of the room.

"Uh, over here Burz!" Said a high pitched voice from behind a bookshelf. A young (by elf standards) Dark Elf peeked his head out. His skin was dark, even for a Dunmer, and his hair was already a snowy white from numerous experiments gone awry. It stuck up like the bristles on a broom, almost as if waiting for the next explosion to push it back. He grinned as he took off a pair of goggles and strolled over to the orc. His eyes were the typical ruby red, and his face bore wrinkles around his mouth from the near constant smile he wore. "Hello old friend! How are you?"

"Brinyon, I am well, how are you? I noticed you got a new secretary?" Burz smiled.

"Ah, yes. Naphala. She is a very helpful young woman. Did you know I am the first Arch-Mage to hire a secretary? They are very helpful to have around you know." He said very quickly. He always spoke at a fast pace.

"Interesting. Well she is quite lovely for a Dunmer. So, any new projects?"

"I'm glad you asked! Tell me, if you have 75 gold pieces, and then get 25 more, how many gold pieces do you have?" He asked, with a smile.

"I'm not sure... 25 more than you had before?"

"Yes! But how would you know how many you have without counting them? I am looking into a new magic. The magic of numbers. Imagine the possibilities! You could do so much with numbers. I will call it... MOTH!" Brinyon said with a beaming grin.

"Brin... There is already an insect named 'moth'" Burz said, choking back a chuckle.

"Oh... I see... well... Then it shall be called... MATH!" He said with another grin.

"And what does math mean?"

"Well I am tired of boring names for magic. So unimaginative. Destruction destroys things, Alteration alters, blah blah blah. It's time for something more... fun! So if I am going to make an name a new kind of magic, I want it to be fun. So math it is! Math: The magic of numbers! The children will love it!" His eyes were full of joy, looking to the heavens as if the divines were speaking directly to him. "Speaking of children, have you and Ghorza thought of having any?"

"Well... Brin, we have been waiting until things settle down." Burz said in a gruff voice.

"Burz, the world will never stop turning. Well, it could, but with dire, dire consequences. Let's hope it doesn't. But I digress... metaphorically speaking, the world doesn't stop turning for any one. We have to do the best we can with what we are given." Brinyon said quickly. He had a habit of getting philosophical without intending to. Burz had a great respect for Arch-Mage Peron. He had a vast knowledge of not only magic, but of worldly things as well. He was also very helpful in a fight. He and Burz had been in more than a few tavern fights together in their youth.

"I'll get around to it, Brin. We have bigger fish to fry right now. How are the troops?" Burz said, dismissing the conversation about children.

"The students are doing well. For uncivilized Breton tribes, they are coming along quite well! They have all mastered basic ward spells and firebolt spells. None of them will be legendary on the battlefield I don't figure, but they will do their job," Brinyon said with a smile. He was clearly proud to see his college being a college again.

"As long as they provide us sword-slingers enough time to get close to the Altmer, I don't care how good they are." Burz said with a grin.

"Are we almost ready for this thing to start?"

"Yes, we are. Plans have been made to start the march by the end of the week. And our scouts have reported that the Dominion appears oblivious to any sort of plan."

"Are you ready for this, Burz? You have always been just another foot soldier. Now you are 2nd in command of the Imperial Army. That is quite a leap my friend." Brinyon's speaking had slowed down. He was worried.

"I will be fine. If all goes according to plan, this will be quick and easy. Shouldn't take more than a year. General Tullius devised a masterful plan that seems to be unfolding greatly in our favor." The two men looked at each other for a moment. The silent tension grew to sharp climactic knock on the door. The men shared confused looks. Brinyon had no other appointments scheduled for today. The young Dark Elf opened the door.

"Master Peron, there is a woman from the Aldmeri Dominion here to see you. Should I let hi..." Her words were cut short by a taller than normal High Elf that pushed her out of the way. She was very pale with equally pale hair. Her eyes were a fiery orange.

"Elenwen... I'm not sure why you are here... We agreed that since Ancano, there would be no more advisers..." Brinyon said nervously.

"We will get to why there is an orc soldier in your office in a minute. Tell me, Arch-Mage Peron, why is there suddenly a big interest in your college? Since the great flood, it has been a tiny blip here in Skyrim." She asked, her eyes burning into Brinyon.

"Well... I suppose I am just good at recruitment. Folks have heard all I have to offer.."

"Then why is 75% of your enrollment Breton tribesmen? Did you go to High Rock and some how civilize the savages and convince them to come pursue a higher knowledge?" She asked in a rather sarcastic tone.

"I... uh... Yes... The Bretons have always had an aptitude for magic. And the Nords here do not care for it. Bees must go to where the flowers are, you know."

"Then tell me, why did you not travel to Windhelm to recruit your kinsmen there? You know the Dunmer population has risen tremendously in the past several months."

"I... had no idea, madam."

"Don't be coy with me, Brinyon. I know you are not oblivious to the world like Savos was. Something strange is going on here. I want to know what is the sudden fascination with Eastern Skyrim? Tell me!" Her voice began to raise.

"I don't know what you mean, Madam Elenwen... Winterhold is just a very promising school for the Arcane arts.." Brinyon said, his high pitched voice began to shake.

"Then tell me, why is this orc here? I know this slime can't do more than a fire spell!"

"He is just an old friend. We have been catching up."

"You look familiar to me, orsimer. Where have I seen you?" Her eyes squinted as her fiery gaze shifted to Burz. They had met twice before. Last was at the Thalmor Embassy when Delphine had asked him to do recon work. The time before that was at the chopping block in Helgen.

"I do not know that I know you, madam. I am just a simple orc tribesman." Burz lied. He had gotten good at lying, but this woman was an interrogator.

"And where would a master wizard such as Arch-Mage Peron meet a 'simple orc tribesman'" She ask with a snarl.

"He was young once. He wasn't always such a master wizard. We were born around the same time and place. It didn't take long for two young adventurers to meet." Burz said with a slight smile. He saw something move in the corner of his eye. He refused to look over. He didn't want to break gaze with Elenwen. She would think he was lying if he did.

"I see... And where about were you two born then?" A smirk was growing on her face. Did she enjoy interrogating so much?

"He was born in the town of Anvil. His parents were dock workers. They had fled the eruption of the Red Mountain. I was born an afternoons walk to the north. My father had built a small farm there. He had been exiled from our clan. He was something of a thief." Burz spoke slowly. The movement was making its way behind Elewen.

"I see. That is all very touching. But I know I have seen your face before orc, and I want to know where." Her voice grew louder as her smirk grew fainter.

"I've never seen you before." He said calmly.

"Do not lie to me, where do I know you!"

"You do not know me," Burz could feel his Thu'um. He had to hide it.

"Tell me now, or I'll have you executed!"

"You do not know me, I swear!"

"Tell me n..." Her voice fell silent and her body swayed, then crumpled to the ground leaving nothing but a hooded reptilian figure in front of the old friends. The Argonian winked, picked up the body, and said "They will find her in Hammerfell," and sprinted off. The two men looked at each other in disbelief. Phase one of the plan would have to start soon.

"I'll send word to General Rikke... You gather up the half of the Bretons and send them East to Hammerfell. I'll get a Currier to move that way to alert them. The Empire's freedom is at hand, Brin, promise me we will have mead together when this is over.." Burz's heart was racing, and his speech was frantic.

"I promise, old friend. Now go!"

Burz rushed out of the island of a college and down to the city of Winterhold. He found his horse and galloped to the south toward Windhelm. His mind was racing. The war had just begun. It could not be taken back. This would mark a new chapter in his life; one that he felt woefully unprepared for. A year ago he was drinking up all the ale in Markarth trying to forget war, and now he was plunged back into it.

* * *

"Elenwen is dead? How did this happen?" The new general asked.

"Our friend from the Brotherhood assassinated her. Right in front of Arch-Mage Peron and me. She said she would take the body to Hammerfell for us. I'm not sure how, but she knew our plan." Burz said with heavy breaths. He had ran straight to the Grey Quarter to alert General Rikke.

"I am glad they are on our side I suppose," she half whispered.

"I'm glad their 'mother' has never called for our heads." Burz retorted. "We must begin the first phase of Tullius's plan. I've already ordered Brinyon to move the Breton troops. We need to send word to the Redguards at once, General."

"I know, I know. Go to the Currier's office at once. Send word that phase one has begun. Tell them to expect the Bretons by the end of the week. Alert the guard at Solitude. Tell them to begin moving east. Ambarys and I will rally the Dunmer and head to Riften. Once the Currier is off, go to Odahviing and bring the dragons to Riften. From there we will ship off." The General's voice was somber but sure. Burz was confident in her leadership.

"Yes sir!" He left her at once to send word that the war had begun. Rikke ran up the wooden stairs, skipping steps in her haste.

"Ambarys! It's time! Mobilize the troops!" She yelled as she ran. The Dark Elf had been reading more letters from Cyrodiil, pledging allegiance to him once they reached the mainland. He threw the letters down and without a word he joined the General. They began running through the city, alerting the townsfolk. The troops gathered their things and prepared to march. In minutes the dark sleeping city had a hum of activity. Men kissing their wives goodbye, children begging them to stay. The soldiers tried to hide their terror as they passed empty promises of safe return. Horses were stirring. The citizens of Windhelm helped the Dunmer as they prepared to depart. A number of the Nord men packed their own armor and horses to join the fight.

Within the hour the city glowed with torchlight. The troops were ready to march. Burz had already set off to the Throat of the World. General Rikke stood in front of her rag-tag army for the first time as their leader. Ambarys was by her side, donning the traditional bone armor of Morrowind. She gave the order to march. To her, everything sounded faint and distant. Her body felt limp and numb, but her movements were bold and firm. They moved through the night like a cloud of light. Quick and silent. As they left, all that was left behind were the families. Thousands of Dunmer had answered the call. The city walls had expanded to twice their size, and were still bulging. Now the city was virtually empty, save for the women and children left behind. Jarl Brunwulf stood on the steps of the Palace of Kings and watched as his city emptied and grew dark once more. "Blessings of Talos to you all." He muttered as he walked back in his palace and to his bed. He would not sleep well for a while, he thought.


	9. Chapter 9: Reclaiming an Empire

Chapter 9- Reclaiming an Empire

The next few weeks passed by like a flash of lightning. The Dunmer had made it to Riften quickly and awaited Burz gor Ka's arrival with the dragon army. The Redguards began an assault on the western side of Cyrodiil once the Bretons joined them. Once the Dominion forces moved to the west, the Imperial Army began its march into Morrowind. They met little resistance as the An-Xileel had few forces there, and even recruited the Redoran Guard. Their march to the Black Marsh was quick and painless. Once they got close to border, they halted and prepared for a fight. The Dunmer would side with the Empire and fellow Dunmer, but the Argonians of the Black Marsh had been seeking power from this war. They would not be so welcoming.

* * *

"How are we to pass through the marsh undetected?" General Rikke asked Ambarys. He had proposed the idea of avoiding conflict until they reached Elsweyr.

"The Marsh is all swampland! We simply avoid towns. There are few roads here. They wont have traveling soldiers." He stated.

"But what of the Hist? Do they not commune with the Argonians?" She asked.

"That is just lore and nonsense! The Hist are just big trees that the uncivilized tribes worship." Ambarys replied with a scoff.

"I feel we are greatly underestimating these Argonians. They defended themselves very well against the hoards of Oblivion." Burz chimed in.

"I just can not envision these lizard folk being much of a threat." Ambarys said. "I think we are smart enough to make our way around them with out any conflict."

"The point of all this is to unify the Empire again. Right now the An-Xileel control most of Morrowind, and the Black Marsh. They must be defeated with the Dominion if you want your home back. Also, if we make it through, and start a fight in Elsweyr, we leave our backs exposed to attack. We can not risk it." Rikke said with authority.

"Well then what do you propose we do?" The Dark Elf asked.

"I say we reason with them," came a cold, familiar voice. The group turned around to see Al-Sien sitting on a log behind them. She was sharpening a blade, and looked rather smug that she had made her way into camp.

"Reason with them? How?" Asked Ambarys, who was oblivious to who the Argonian was.

"The Hist are not just big trees as you say. They are our brothers. We help them to grow, and they do the same for us. Win the trees, you win the lizards." Her voice was calm, and unnerving. "The Argonians worship the same father as I. Sithis is the one they serve. I can help you there. I am the servant of his wife, the Night Mother. I am also the grand daughter of the Prince of Madness himself. I would be a goddess to the 'uncivilized tribes.'" She looked with disdain at Ambarys. Burz knew the contract was keeping her from killing him.

"So this is what you wanted all along? You were not doing this for your mother. You were doing it for a chance to unite the Argonians under you." Rikke said with anger.

"Oh, no no no. Mother calls for it. The Brotherhood is small and weakened. We are in need of the great Shadowscales that once served Sithis. Mother calls for a new Listener, and I am to be Queen of the Marsh. She says we can be apart of your... Empire." A grin grew on the reptilian face. She winked at Burz. If she became Queen, killing her would be an act of war on his part.

"General, are we going to trust this... Murderer?" Burz asked. His rage welling up.

"It seems we are going to have to for now. She is still under contract." Rikke said, her gaze fixed on Al-Sien.

"Oh goody! I can't wait to rule a country! Pappy will be proud! Let us march in! Come on now!" She stood up and began making her way to the swampy border.

"Wait a minute! Hold on!" Rikke called out. Al-Sien stopped and faced the group. "We can't leave just yet. We have to rest for the night."

"Great! I don't need you for talking. I am no puppet that needs a hand in me to make talks. But that could be fun..." She smirked at that and continued on her path, "Better without big strong men to scare any way."

"We are coming with you!" Rikke called out. The three followed the Argonian into the Marsh. It was dark and moist. An almost instant change. The trees towered over them, and had luscious vines that hung low to the ground. The tree tops were so thick that they touched and blotted out the sun. The trees almost seemed to lean into each other. The ground was soupy and brown. Without sun to evaporate the extensive rain the water just kept collecting in this vast marsh. Al-Sien seemed to have little trouble moving through the muck, but Burz in particular was having a difficult time.

Hours passed, and the quartet had yet to find anything. They had patrolled through mud and muck and too numerous a variety of vines.

"Do you know where we are going?" Burz called. He had a difficult time keeping up with the group. He was not used to wading through a swamp.

"We just keep going!" Al-Sien yelled with a smile. She seemed very at home in the thick forest of vine and mud.

"Have you ever really been here?" Ambarys asked with a chuckle. Al-Sien stopped and spun around, fury on her face.

"This was my home!" She screeched. "Long before that frozen rock, I made my way through here!"

"We mean no disrespect, it's just... We feel lost. Surely we would have run into something by now..." Rikke said, trying to diffuse the situation.

"To be lost, we have to have no idea where we are. I know exactly where we are!" The others looked in anticipation, "We are in the Marsh! If you want to run into something, close your eyes." They looked in dismay at her. They were lost, Burz thought to himself. It was then they heard a hissing sound. It was rather faint, but was growing in strength. "Ooooooohhhh... We are in for a treat! You just let me handle this, trust me." Al-Sien said, her eyes giddy with anticipation. The trees began to shake, their leaves creating a heavy rustling. The hissing grew louder, as if it was coming closer to them. They began to hear obscure words coming from all around them; the voices, a loud whisper. The trees shook more. Al-Sien began to leap and dance in joy.

"Trespassers... Outsiders... Do not trust... Get them!" The words became more clear as the whispers grew closer. The trees and vines around them were shaking like blades of grass in the wind. It was as if the forest itself was angry at their presence. The wind howled, and the water rushed. Al-Sien fell to her knees.

"Brothers in Sithis! I have returned!" She screamed over the commotion.

"Sister! You have returned!" The voices exclaimed, and the trees shook more.

"Lead them to us! Mother has a plan!" Al-Sien began to weep.

"It shall be done!" The voices replied. The forest fell silent. All was as still as it had been seconds before. The three friends looked at each other in disbelief. Burz spoke first.

"Was.. Was that the Hist?" He asked timidly. Al-Sien grew a sinister smile as she looked in the water. She stood slowly and began to giggle.

"Why, yes. This is the spot of my birth. These are my kin." She said, still looking into the water. Her voice was low and calm. "Others will be here soon. Let me speak with them." She walked to a near by log at sat down. Her eyes closed and she began to meditate. A few moments past before lights could be seen in the distance. They were accompanied by soft voices. And the hissing. They slowly made their way to the quartet.

"Who are you people?" A large Argonian asked.

"We are a small scout party from a very large army from Morrowind. We have come to take the land," Al-Sien stated, her eyes still closed. Burz's expression turned to shock. What could she be thinking? The Argonian soldiers circled around them.

"Tell us where your army is!" the leader bellowed.

"I can not tell you that part. But if you were to capture us, and take us to your An-Xileel, and we can discuss further action. Take us into custody, we will not fight." She said. She opened her eyes and cast a gaze the Legion soldiers. Her eyes were calm.

"Tie them up!" The leader yelled. The Argonian soldiers closed in on them and bound their hands with thick vines. Burz was tempted to break free, but Al-Sien seemed almost prophetic, and was clearly in the favor of the Divines. He had to trust her for now.

* * *

After hours of being dragged along, the group finally saw small huts and roaring fires. They were brought through the village and up a large hill that rose out of the water. On top was a large hut, built out of the surrounding trees. It was small compared to the castles of Skyrim or Cyrodiil, but it was obvious that it belonged to the leader of this tribe. "You will go in there now," Said the leader of the soldiers. He pointed a long, slender finger towards the hut. The Argonians let go, and the Quartet made their way to the hut. Al-Sien went in first.

Their was a large fire inside that cast a dim orange glow around the hut. It was in the center of the room, and the throne was just behind it. The fire obscured the view of the leader, but he looked much more reptilian than any other Argonian Burz had seen. He stood and began to speak. His stature was tall and round. Like that of an overgrown toad. He had boney spikes jutting from his scales all over his body. His words sounded like the hisses they had heard from the trees. Al-Sien spoke back in the Argonian tongue, Jel. The leader spoke again, this time in the language of men and mer.

"This one says you are from the Sky Rim. Is this true?" He asked, his voice raspy, as if resisting speaking with hisses. His teeth were razor sharp and looked like small pearl daggers jutting haphazardly from his gums.

Rikke answered him, "Yes, we are from Skyrim. We have brought an army of Dunmer to your borders to pass through to Elsweyr. We ask for safe passage." Her voice was clear and stern.

"I can not do thisss. You bring fighters. To us, this is an act of war. But why do you ask to passsss?" His speech was slow but sure. He had many dealings in this language, and he knew it well.

"We are at war with the Aldmeri Dominion, not your people. We ask to pass to attack them from behind."

"I see your strategy is strong. But the cat people will not let you pass either. Their allegiance lies with the mer. And again, we can not let you pass. You bring the gray ones back to their home. They will want our headssss." Ambarys looked at Rikke. She had promised him Morrowind. Al-Sien began to speak in Jel to the leader again.

"This one says you lie. She says you have brought her here to fulfill her destiny. She says I shall be cast out and she will take my place as leader of the An-Xileel! As Queen of the Marsh?" He said, his words more precise. His expression turned to rage. "I am An-Ei! King of the An-Xileel, King of the Marsh!" The Argonian walked towards them. He began to hiss once more. The fire dancing off his blood red skin. Al-Sien leaped onto his back and cut her vine ties with one of his horns. She dug into his skin with her claws as he tried to tear her off of his back. She latched on even harder. His hisses turned to screams.

The tribesmen came rushing in to find their king in a fight with the small assassin. They tried with no avail to stab at her with their spears. Every lunge they made met with their king rather than her. She was making his own people kill him. He fell to his knees in weakness. He was bleeding profusely. He begged his people to stop, and they followed his command. He continued to claw at his back as Al-Sien danced on him. She ripped one of the horns off of his back and stabbed it into his chest, knocking him over. The guards raised their spears again, but were afraid to attack. She leaned into his ear and hissed something at him. Then she got up off him and wiped the blood off of her face.

"By the rights of Sithis, and with regard to the Hist code, this kingdom is now mine. BOW TO ME!" A wicked smile came to her face. She yelled at the soldiers to bow to her a second time. They reluctantly threw down their weapons and dropped to their knees. She reached down and grabbed the Argonian crown and placed it on her head. "Go forth and tell the tribes. A queen has taken the throne this night. Queen Al-Sien, Duchess of Mania. Hail Sithis!" She threw up her hand in triumph. The Argonian soldiers drew up their arms once again and departed from the hut to go tell the hist and to spread the word.

A slow clapping came from the corner of the room. A slender silhouette came from the shadows. The light slowly illuminated a pale face with equally pale hair. Rikke recognized Astrid from the Dark Brotherhood. "Bravo, Listener. Bravo indeed." She said with a smile as she embraced the blood soaked Queen.

"Did you hear her voice?" Al-Sien asked hastily.

"I did, sister. It was as you said. I am now the Listener." Astrid said, her smile grew bigger.

"You are once again in charge of the Brotherhood!" Al-Sien said with a beaming grin.

"I will not abuse it this time! And with you being Queen here, we shall grow to our former glory! With the help of the Empire." Astrid's gaze turned to Rikke.

"Yes indeed." Al-Sien joined her in looking at Rikke. "Now that this has been dealt with, be on your way! You will not see me for the rest of this contract. Your dealings will be with Astrid from now on. Go, follow the Hist to Morrowind. You will be granted passage through the Marsh." As the group began to depart, Al-Sien called after them again, "Oh, and gray skin, The Empire promised you Morrowind when it was not their land to promise. But I say to you, Sithis has willed it back to you with no bloodshed. Consider it a gift for aiding in my ascension to the throne." She bowed to Ambarys.

"Thank you, madlady," He bowed with a smile. The trio made their way back to their Morrowind camp, following the hissing trees. It was near a days journey back. Now they had to prepare for Elsweyr. There would be no negotiating safe passage with the Khajiit. They would be forced to do battle once they reached that border. But for now, they would rest.


	10. Chapter 10: May You Walk on Warm Sands

**Hey guys, I haven't posted in quite a while, but here is the next chapter. I know a few of you have been waiting for a very long time for this.**

Chapter 10: May You Walk On Warm Sands

A hot, dry wind blew across Burz gro Ka's face as he stood atop a small mountain on the edge of Elsweyr. It reminded him of a dragon's breath right before he used his Thu'um. He wondered if his breath got hot before he shouted. He looked to the north and saw a vast sea of golden grass and sand. He felt like he could see for miles across the barren land of the Khajiit. He took his Orcish helm off and let what little hair he had left blow freely. His once jet black hair had turned to thin, silver-gray strands over the years like his father's. The top of his head was bald from years of wearing helmets. The past decade in the gray, snow-filled Skyrim and drained most of the color from his skin. He was a green-tinted gray now from lack of sun. His armor was snug from 10 years of inactivity, however the last few months had alleviated that slightly. He had yet to brush up on his skills as a fighter. This 'war' had failed to provide much conflict thus far, but he was glad for it.

Burz thought back to his days in the Golden Coast of Cyrodiil. In his younger days, not yet 15, he and his brother Gallic would venture to Skingrad, and then go to the Elsweyr city of Riverhold and spend days away from home. From time to time, Brinyon would tag along. Being about 10 years older, he could get them things because he was considered an adult. They felt the power of youthful authority until they would return home and face their father's disapproval. That was many years ago. He would turn 35 within the year; old for an orc man. He should be the head of a tribe by now, if his father hadn't been exiled. His thoughts drifted to his family. He mused over where his younger brother ended up. On his 15th birthday, Burz's father had sent him away to "become a man" and he had never returned. If all went to plan, he would pass within miles of his childhood home.

The wind shifted to the south west, blowing towards the city of Corinth. That was their target, the Khajiit Mane lived there. They would have to capture the city to capture Elsweyr. Burz closed his eyes as the wind blew across his face. It was hot, but cooler than stagnant air. He knew once they descended the mountain there would be very little wind, and when there was, it would be riddled with harsh sand. Burz wondered what a Khajiit is his natural land would be like. All he knew were the tame Khajiit of the Skyrim caravans.

General Rikke finally topped the mountain and walked towards Burz. She saw that he was deep in thought and did not disturb him. This was the first peace she had seen on his face since knowing him. She gazed at the vast savannah until her gaze met a small village to the south west. It looked to be a few miles from the base of the mountain, but Rikke could not be sure with so little reference points in the wasteland. She wiped a cool bead of sweat from her brow. She knew she would grow to hate the burning hot of Elsweyr's air. 'May you walk on warm sands' was something the Khajiit of Skyrim had always told her. She finally understood how out of their element they were. She almost felt sorry for them.

* * *

Within a few hours time, the Imperial Army descended upon the small village to the south west. The townspeople were caught off guard, and provided little in the way of resistance. Burz was gasping for air as he swung his mighty warhammer at his enemies. He remembered how to feel the subtle crack of bone when he made contact. He felt alive once again, like he had years ago during the Civil War. His Thu'um echoed far and wide in the flatland. The battle was brief and easy. They lost no soldiers as they faced simple warriors with little more than spears, but Burz knew a new foe. There were Khajiit that crawled on all fours like the saber cats of Skyrim. They had great manes, and showed incredible strength. He had heard stories of these beasts on his trips to Riverhold, but had never seen one in person.

"Clean up the bodies and prepare a pyre. We shall use this village as a camp." General Rikke gave the command. The village was small and would not hold the hundreds of thousands they had with them, but this would be a base of operations in this foreign land. From this point on, the army would be split.

"Burz, I want you to take a detachment and scout ahead before we move on." Rikke said. They had moved to a small hut for the high ranking officers to meet. Though Ambarys was not a part of the Legion, he was allowed admittance.

"Yes ma'am." Burz said, his voice gruff from action.

Ambarys chimed in, "General, the night will soon take this place. The Khajiit can see in the dark. We should not have soldiers out long past dark. It will be dangerous."

"You are right, Ambarys. Burz, for now, secure the perimeter. Nightfall is close, and you wont be able to see much anyway. You can scout in the morning," Rikke said.

"Yes ma'am," Burz left the tent. He looked at the village. It's perimeter was growing as he stood. Soldiers were pitching their tents to prepare for the night. Many soldiers had refused to use the small huts that belonged to the locals. A cool wind blew across Burz's face indicating the impending night. He thought back to the cool summer nights in Marcarth. After he had defeated Alduin, he would go on nightly walks with his wife around the city. He would tell her everything, and she would heal his wounds with her words of wisdom. Together, they reveled in the relative peace that he had brought to the land. Some where along the way they stopped. Their nightly walks had turned into his nightly visit the the pub for mead. Her eyes would be filled with sadness for her husband every time he walked through the door. How could he let that happen?

Rikke stepped out of the tent after a few moments and saw that Burz was deep in thought. It was a rare occasion to see tears on an orc. "Lot on the mind, orc?" She asked, her tone was smooth.

"A man of my age has many regrets. My kind has never been known for long, loving marriages. But I love my wife so deeply, and I let her down. 34 years on Nirn, and she is the only thing I've found worth living for, and how do I treat her? Like a glorified maid." His words were slow. He took long pauses between each thought.

"That was forthcoming, for an orc," Rikke said with a smile. Bruz let out a slight snort. "Burz, I don't know you that well. I haven't seen you with your wife that much. I can't sit here and claim to know your marriage, but what I can say is when you are with your wife, it is obvious to every one in the room that you love her. Are you the best man you could be? No, of course not. We are all flawed, but you are a good husband who loves your wife." Rikke felt uncomfortable. She wasn't good at these kinds of talks. And the tears on Burz's face were unsettling.

Burz stood silent for a while. His wispy hair blew in the cool wind. He took deep breaths as his thoughts went back to his childhood, remembering the cool night-wind that always came in across the hot sand when he and his brother would sneak to Riverhold. Rikke stood with him, silent. She had said what she could.

"I've had ten years of the quiet life to think about things. It is so hard in war to stop and muse. Ironic that I choose now to finally start thinking again." Burz said, his voice uncharacteristically quiet. Rikke glanced at him, slightly surprised by his voice. She averted her gaze back to the open savanna. The sky was turning a hot orange as night was approaching from behind.

"Burz, you should get that patrol going. I don't want you out there long once the dark hits." Rikke said, her voice stern again.

"Yes ma'am." Burz's gaze was still on the savanna, but his voice was strong again. He turned to go gather a few troops. Rikke remained outside her tent and continued to gaze at the savanna. This land was so open and flat, yet she felt as though she couldn't see anything. She felt as though she was being watched from the tall grass, but was helpless to stop it. Anything could be hiding in it. The cool wind blew, and sky burned a deeper orange. Darkness would soon take the land.

* * *

The soldiers followed close behind Burz as the sun vanished completely behind the horizon. The night took longer without mountains to hide the sun prematurely. The moon was out, and provided an adequate light source for the patrol to see. The camp was less than ten minutes away, and Burz could see the campfires in the distance. Everything was so visible here, yet there was so much grass to hide in. He felt the patrol was pointless, as they could easily miss something just a few steps from where they were. As he moved, the grass licked at his naval. If he wasn't wearing armor, it would tickle him.

"Sir, I can't see anything, may we head back soon?" A soldier asked. His voice was feeble. It sounded familiar.

Burz turned around to look at the owner of the voice. He looked very familiar. He stared for a moment when it clicked. He was the young soldier that had come to him in Marcarth. "Sending in a Currier to do a soldiers job," Burz muttered.

"What was that, sir? Can we go back now?" His voice quivered slightly.

"What is your name, son?" Burz asked, his voice full of authority. "I didn't get it 4 years ago in Marcarth."

The soldier looked shocked that Burz remembered. "M.. my... my name is Johnathan Marro..." He stuttered out.

"Johnathan Marro..." Burz thought for a moment. "Lets head back, boys. Marro has a point. We have seen all that can for now." Burz turned to the camp and began to walk back. As they made their way back, Burz heard rustling in the grass close by. He stopped to investigate. He scanned the top of the grass to see if there was any movement, but he could not see much because his eyes had not yet adjusted to the darkness. He made his way towards the rustling, the hair on his neck was elevated. The soldiers had stopped to see what was happening, they were at the ready. Burz stopped as he saw two glints of light in the grass, like eyes in the moonlight. He leaned forward and held his breath from anxiety. For a moment, all was quiet.

Out of the still came a thunderous roar as a large cat leaped out of the grass at Burz. In what felt like slow motion, Burz grabbed at a small blade he kept at his side. He didn't have enough time to unsheathe his hammer. He embraced the cat as it's body descended upon his. He let the blade sink into the front of it's neck as their bodies fell to the ground. Before his head was swallowed up in the sea of weed, he saw a dozen more of the beasts leap from the grass at his party.

"FUS ROH DAH!" He shouted the cat off of him. He stood up and yelled at the village for help as he clamored for his hammer. He grabbed it and swung just in time to meet the skull of his assailant. The cat's body went limp as it flew through the air and landed on another cat. An onslaught of electricity burst from behind him as the Breton battlemages joined the skirmish. The dark scene was illuminated be enchantments. As the cats where met with steel, they would disappear back into the grass only jump back out and attack from a different angle, their large teeth sinking through the steel armor of the Legion.

Burz swung his hammer in a fury at grass and fur. His errant attacks met with little more than grass tips. He felt blind as he could not see anything below his naval. "Set fire to the field!" He yelled to the mages as he retreated back. The mages began casting fire spells on the grass as they ran to the village. "YOL TOOR SHUL!" Burz shouted fire at the cats. If he couldn't see them in the grass, he would draw them out, or get rid of their cover. As they dashed back to camp, more soldiers came from the ranks to help quell the disturbance. Burz began to count his party. He had taken 10, and came back with 8. Where was Marro? He must have been a casualty, the poor fool.

A cat leaped out of the grass at one of the mages, and Burz tossed his blade. It met with the beasts eye, and it fell to the earth in a whimper. The soldiers stood and waited for more, but none came. The mages began putting the fires out to see if they had killed any. 15 roasted corpses laid in the ash. One of which was a Legion soldier. They could not see any other attackers.

* * *

"How many were there?" Rikke asked, her tone furious.

"There was no way to tell. They hid in the grass. We killed at least 25. We only lost three men." Burz said, his voice was gruff.

"Some could have escaped. They could be on their way to Corinth, Burz. They could ruin our plan before we even get started! We will have no idea where they will take the Mane!" Rikke shouted.

"General, the Mane is too prideful. He will not flee Corinth. He will remain there to fight us off. That is the Khajiit way." Ambarys said, his voice calming.

"We better hope so. In the mean time, take the mages out to burn the grass down around the perimeter. We need to be able to see those cats coming!" Rikke said, her voice was more calm, but still had anger in it.

"I will scout in the morning, ma'am." Burz said. Rikke nodded him out of the tent. He would need sleep. On his way back to his tent, he looked at his armor for damage. No punctures or dents. Only scratches. His Orcish armor held up once again. He took pride in his craftsmanship. He felt alive again. The first major combat of the war, and in over a decade. He missed it more than he knew.


	11. Chapter 11: Mane Event

Chapter 11: Mane Event

The hot morning sun of the Elsweyr rose in the eastern horizon and woke the camp. The night had reminded Burz of Skyrim. Without the burning sun, the savanna had gotten very cold. Burz woke quickly. He couldn't stand the hot sticky feel of the sweat while he slept. Unfortunately there was not a water source close enough for him go rinse the liquid off; not that it would matter. The heat of the day was sure to bring rain in his heavy armor. He walked out of his tent and squinted in the bright light. The warm weather caused less cloud cover. The sun was every where, and inescapable. Once his eyes adjusted to the visual assault, Burz scanned the savanna. There were a few trees far in the distance, and looked like tiny people on the horizon. Burz thought he might head that direction for his scouting journey.

Burz made his way towards the command hut to see if Rikke was there yet, still wearing light clothing. She was typically a very early riser, even in the cold. He glanced out at the edges of camp. Mages were already at work on burning the grass around the city. He could only hope in vain that the heat was brought on by the flames. They glowed a hot orange in the still blue-purple of the eastern horizon. The fire reminded him of the previous night's battle. Marro, the stupid kid. He had been confirmed dead. He got lured out too far into the grass and was trapped in the fire the mages had started. How desperate was the Legion that they had to bring a currier this far in the war? He shook his head at the idea as he pushed back the cloth hanging from the door frame of the command hut.

"You slept longer in this inferno than I expected, Burz," Rikke said, her tone light and playful.

"Please tell me the heat is just from the actual blaze.." Burz sighed. Rikke let out a chuckle.

"I can only hope," She said with a smile. "We should have set that fire last night. It would've kept us warm."

"A Nord complaining about the cold? I never thought I'd live to see the day. I thought it was nice. It reminded me of home," Burz's gaze drifted to a dark corner in the hut. A smile stretched across his face.

"I never thought I'd live to hear you call Skyrim home!" Rikke said with surprise, her smile grew wider.

"You blasted Nords have whittled away at my Orc customs! I've long since forgotten what items to bring for the Ritual of Malacath." Burz said with feigned anger. Rikke knew Burz was joking.

"He always seemed like a filthy thing to worship anyway." Rikke stated, her tone more serious.

"But he is the father of my race. I can't forget that. Would you so easily forsake Talos?" Burz asked.

"If it is what The Eight wished of me. My allegiance lies first with them." Rikke said, her smile vanished. Burz made a slight scoff to himself.

"When should I head out for this scouting party?" Burz wanted to change the subject.

"The sun will have woken most of the soldiers by now. Head out within the hour. Scout the area for about two hours and head back. And be careful, Burz. I have an uneasy feeling about last night. We may see action sooner than we anticipated." Rikke said, her voice was commanding again.

"I can almost guarantee the Khajiit will attack with in the week. We should consider moving camp," The familiar voice of Ambarys chimed in as he entered the room. Burz noticed a smile flicker on Rikke's face as he entered. Her eyes lit up, and her skin grew slightly flushed. But she replaced her smile with a stern expression almost immediately. Her skin remained flush. She couldn't control nature.

"Ambarys, nice of you to join us. Where do you expect us to move? There are likely spies out in the sea of grass, and the would surely see thousands of soldiers on the move." Rikke's voice was wavering, as if she was embarrassed by his presence.

Ambarys shot her a quick smile. He looked almost smug. "We could scout further west, maybe head north west. Look for a larger city. Possibly split the army up?" His voice was smooth. Burz was not well versed in romance, but he felt tension between the two, and it wasn't anger. His eyes squinted a little, and a slight smirk grew as he thought about the two together.

"That may work... Confuse them a little. I'll have to think about it. Burz, you scout as planned, to the south. Ambarys, you lead the scouting party for a better place." Rikke said. She was trying to hide her smile, but was not doing a good job. She would not take her eyes off of the Dunmer. Even as he left the hut, her eyes were trained on him.

"What in Talos's name was that?" Burz asked when Ambarys was gone.

"What? What are you talking about?" Rikke's face burned red.

"You know what I am talking about." Burz said, very directly.

Rikke sighed. She had been caught. "Alright! Aright. I have become quite fond of the Dunmer, Ambarys in particular. We have been spending long nights just talking together. Last night I was particularly distressed. I miss home, Burz. And we got ambushed last night... It just all at once. We were talking, and then..." Her voice trailed off.

"Say no more," Burz said quickly. This was the last thing he wanted to hear about.

* * *

"Are you sure Pappy? Must we help the skin bags? They make my scales itch! Especially the gray one..." Al-Sien pleaded with her grandfather. She had made the journey to the Court of Madness on a summons to speak with him.

The Prince of Madness massaged his skull. His head hurt from the confusion. Every day was a battle for sanity, something he had not foreseen when he took the throne a few centuries ago. Who was he? Lizard... scales... Argonian... Yes, Al-Suan, that was... is him. He found his words. "Yes, dear. As your God, I command my Duchess. Help the dearies. They seem... Significant... for mortals..." His words were hard to get out. He wished to be mortal again. Why could he have not died an old man after the Oblivion Crisis? He felt he was owed an ending. Then Sheogorath tricked him into this... this... imprisonment till who knows when. Sheogorath never seemed this torn... this... crazy. He was always stricken by madness, but he relished it. Then again, he was an actual Dremora. Not an overly helpful mortal with a knack for killing who got tricked.

"My lord, might I help explain to the girl?" A monotone voice came from the darkness behind the throne. A tall, slender man stepped out from the darkness. He was old, and well dressed.

"Please!" Al-Suan... Sheogorath almost shrieked.

"My lady, simply put, the divines have blessed the Empire. They have asked us to lend aid. Unlike his predecessor, The Prince follows their will." The man's face remained sullen.

"But WHY, Pappy! That is so... boring! Sithis is much more fun! Daedra are exciting! Blood and guts!" Al-Sien was giddy.

"This place drove me to Sithis! This cursed world, this damned existence drove me to evil! I must find a way back to the Divines. If I do ever find a way to end my wretched life... I want to be with them. This was not the life I chose, and I didn't want it for you." The Prince's voice was withered from being used years longer than it should have. His scales were old and dry. They were once vibrant and healthy, but that was many lifetimes ago.

Al-Sien was suddenly very serious. "It is the life I wanted. I knew what I would become when I joined the Brotherhood. When I fell to Sithis. When I joined you here in your Court! I CHOSE!" Her voice rose with each thought.

"Help the mortals. As your Prince, I command you," Al-Suan summoned a handful of Dark Seducers to make sure she obeyed. "Take Seducers, or Saints. I don't care. Send your own if you have to. I want an army, not a few assassins from the Brotherhood." He said the last word with disdain. Al-Sien stormed out.

"I would make a much better Prince of Madness," She said with fury as she slammed the door of the court behind her.

"That is the plan, my child. If I can make it happen." Al-Suan let out a sorrowful sigh. "Haskill, I truly do love her. I wanted so much better."

"I know, my Lord." The tall man said. Despite his calm demeanor, he preferred the old Sheogorath. He missed the chaos and madness that once ruled the land. But he was still as loyal as ever to his Prince. "I desire the same fate for you. I do not envy your misery."

* * *

Beads of sweat rolled down Burz's cheeks. The sun was scorching. He didn't remember it being this hot back in his youth, granted he was much farther north in those days. He looked back at the other soldiers; they were sagging over like the dying grass that surrounded them. They were almost done as it had been nearly two hours. Burz tried to give the command to turn back, but he was so parched his voice would not come to him. He coughed and tried again.

"Alright men, let's head back to camp. There is nothing noteworthy out here. Just grass and sun." His voice was crackly. He needed water. Where did the people in the village get their water? He looked uneasily around him, nervous for another surprise attack. There was no point in trying to see anything in this thick foliage. He waded though it carefully. Getting back to camp shouldn't be too long. He could still see the smoke from the mages' fire to the north. It was like a big target for the enemies to see, but it needed to be done. Maybe they should have taken care of it at night... It would have been less visible from this distance.

"Legate gro Ka, sir, can we stop for a minute, please?" An old voice asked. It was raspy, and gasping for air as it spoke. Burz turned to see the owner. It was an older solider, probably a volunteer who shouldn't have joined the Legion.

"I don't see a problem with it. We will take five. Be ready to get moving! I don't like it out here." The men threw off their helmates and sighed in relief. All of them had drenched hair from the sweat. A slight breeze began to blow. It was hot wind, but against the salty liquid on their skin, it was cooler than the sun. Burz made his way to a nearby tree for shade. He sat and thought for a few minutes. The Khajitt were beginning to be the least of his worries. If they could not find water in this vast expanse of grass, they would wilt away before any fighting ensued. Burz's head began to throb, but it was time to get moving again.

"Come on, men. We have to get going." Burz said, his voice still raw. The soldiers groaned as they gathered their gear. "Quit your moaning. The faster we get back to camp, the sooner we can lie down." He was trying to be optimistic. The group began to walk north, back toward the cloud of smoke. Burz's head was pounding with each step, like a large drum in his skull. Each thud of his sole provided another beat for the drums march. It became monotonous after a few paces. The orc tried to not focus on it. Instead he thought of the cool nights in Marcarth again. The walks with his Ghorza. What was she doing, he wondered. How was she handling his absence? He should have wrote to her before he left.

His thoughts went to Calcelmo, the old bat. No one in town understood their friendship. He, like many orcs, showed so much emotion with very subtle acts. They fit. He buried himself in his research, and Burz buried himself in his liquor. The old Altmer probably had no idea there was even a war going on. Burz smirked at that. For the first time in his life, he felt like he had a home, yet he could not be there now. He grew homesick.

* * *

"I found a large lake about half an hour to the west and a city about an hour north west of the lake. If we move a large portion of the army tonight, we could take the city by surprise." Ambarys's voice was smooth in Rikke's presence.

"But Ambarys, the Khajiit can see better at night. We would be in the dark against them." Rikke said with concern.

"We can have the mages spread out around the city and set fires to the grass. We can leave a gap in one section, and as the cats try to run out to attack us, and flee, we kill them off. The fire will easily funnel their forces into our trap." Ambarys had a smile on his face. He was reveling in his role as a strategist. Rikke wondered what he did in his days before Windhelm. She was silent for a minute as she pondered over his plan, but she got lost in his sharp features. His eyes like rubies. "Rikke, what do you think?" His voice was jolting, but inviting.

"Uh... Um, yes... That sounds... good.." She struggled to find words. She wasn't as focused as she needed to be.

"Dear, last night was wonderful, and unplanned. But for now we should not linger on it. We have greater matters to attend to. After this is all over, we can... talk... some more." His voice was quiet. Rikke was hurt, but understood. They had bigger things then themselves to worry about. She focused on his actual plan for a moment.

"That should work, but should we split the army so soon?" She couldn't hide the hurt in her voice.

"I don't think it would be a bad idea. We have to move quickly before the Khajiit have time spread news of us to all of their tribes. We must spread throughout the land now while we have the chance." Burz's voice boomed as he entered the hut. Ambarys and Rikke looked, a little startled, as he walked in. Ambarys worried that he had heard what he said. "Just think, if there were survivors last night, they likely headed to Corinth to warn the Mane. The next logical thing they would do is warn other major cities. The Mane is to prideful to leave Corinth, but if he allows his cities to fall around him, he would be backed into a corner. We don't want to spread too thin, but we can't sit with the entire Legion in one place."

"You are right, Burz.." Rikke spoke first. Her voice soft. "Order the troops. We move at nightfall. Half the mages, and the Redoran Guard will go with me to the north west. Ambarys will lead a small scout force to get water for the troops here."

"I could call Odahviing to help pack water on. We wouldn't have to sacrifice forces that way. Also, the cats know we are here now. No use in hiding the dragons anymore." Burz stated.

"Very well. Call him in. After he gathers water with Ambarys, send him to gather the dragons. Burz, you will be in charge of the assault on Corinth. I want you to make for the Mane at dawn. My forces will work on capturing the north. We should meet back here in two weeks time." Rikke said. Her voice was steady and commanding. Burz nodded in acknowledgment. Ambarys grunted in approval. Burz left the hut to get rest. And to give Rikke time alone with Ambarys.

Once Burz was gone, Rikke spoke again. "Ambarys, you are right. We can't focus on ourselves right now. But you promise me that there will be an after." Her eyes stung red as she forced back tears.

"The Divines will see us together again," Ambarys whispered. His eyes shone bright. His normally sharp features were soft. He walked over and embraced her tenderly for a few moments. She stole a quick kiss from him as she left the hut, lingering at the door for another look at him. She prayed to Talos she would see him in a week.


	12. Chapter 12: Mane Event Part 2

**This is kind of a long chapter. Hope you enjoy it!**

Chapter 12- Mane Event Part 2

"I have never felt this way before, my In, my master. I feel like I have a home... Why is it only now I realize what I had?" Burz was speaking with Paarthurnax on the outskirts of the camp. It was well into the night, and much of the army had already set off for a city named Orcrest. It had been a long while since Burz spoke with his master.

"Many times, we do not know what we have until we have lost it, young Dovahkiin. You finally have a brod again. A clan. You have... what you would call a family. Much like I have with the Graybeards. All you have know was Kein, war. You have been a Kendov-Kaal, a warrior champion, all your life! But you settled down. You took on a wife. We gave up moro, glory, for our Brod. I did the same when I settled on Monahven. Ogiim, orc, we found what it is to live. You just didn't realize you had until now that it is too late. But this is all apart of your Lovaas, your song. The Divines have this plan for you, but I feel they will grant you rest after this, Dovahkiin. Don't you worry." Paarthurnax's words were always slow, but sure. He always took time to truly choose his words. His wisdom was not easily matched.

"Your words are comforting, my In. However, I fear that I may never know a peaceful life." Burz said, his heart heavy.

"Stubborn Ogiim!" The aged dragon retorted. Burz looked at him with confusion. Paarthurnax was rarely that forward. "You feel that this is all you will ever know because it is all you have known till now! For thousands of years, millennium even, I was a killer! My very name reflects what I was! In your tongue I am Ambition, Overlord, Cruelty! What you are now is not what you will always be, Dovahkiin. I once met a young Argonian man shortly after the Oblivion Crisis so many years ago. He had aided Martin Septim in destroying Mehrunes Dagon. Was was the Kaal of Cyrodiil! But he went on to do grave atrocities in his life time. Acts that he pays for to this day. You will see peace after this, Dovahkiin." Paarthurnax's voice rumbled. A few of the soldiers were staring; they were not accustomed to being so close to a dragon.

Burz sat silent for a long while. He began to meditate on what his teacher had told him. He felt a peace pouring over him as he began to accept what Paarthurnax had said. The cool wind of the Elsweyr night blew his wispy hair. It felt good after the long hot of the day. He thought he should let sleep take him for the night. He had a long journey ahead of him at daybreak. He stood without disturbing Paarthurnax's meditation and walked towards his tent. He would sleep very peacefully tonight.

* * *

The blazing sun stirred him from his slumber once again the next day. He stumbled out of bed as sleep had not yet left his body. He went for the water supply to rinse the beads of sweat already collecting on his forehead off. As he strolled through the village, he saw other soldiers peaking out of their tents. The sky was a strange mix of orange and blue purple as the sun came scorching from the east, and the night retreated from the flames to the west. Why was it so hot already? Burz could not wait until they got out of this wretched dry land.

He reached the water jars and emptied some into a small bowl. He splashed it on his face and filled the bowl up again, this time for a drink. The water trickled down his growing beard. He had stopped shaving once they had moved into Morrowind; he simply didn't care. He saw Odahviing was sleeping close to the water. He walked over and woke the sleeping mass to send him off for another water run. The army had already consumed over half the supply the previous night. Odahviing did not appretiate being awoken for such a trivial task, but he flew to the west towards the lake. He would be back in time to move out. Burz filled up another bowl and drank it. Today would be a hard day to get through.

Burz made his way to the command hut. He wanted to study the map they had found at the local traders. Corinth was a 5 hour march to the south of their position. He would march the army to the city gates, demand the Mane surrender himself, and when he didn't, the army would mount an attack. He figured he should leave a small squad of 20 men and a dragon or so to defend the village. He wasn't quite sure why he was still looking at the map. He knew the way. Perhaps it was because he didn't want to begin this particular journey. He took a deep sigh and backed away from the map. It was a shame he had given up mead prior to leaving Skyrim, he could use a drink.

* * *

Burz nervously held his sword in his hand. It had been crafted by his father, as was the steel armor covering his body. He turned his head to look at his father, who stood much higher than he. His father looked down at him, scowling. His hair jet black and pulled back. His beard was in a war braid. The teeth of his lower jaw jutted out, crooked and chipped from years of hard battle. His boney brow and yellow war paint strewn across his deep green features made his seem almost feral. Burz had seen his father ready for battle before, but he had never joined him until now. His hand had a steady tremble from fear.

"Father, sir... am I too young for this? I'm scared." Burz's voice was small compared to what it would become.

"Don't be. We have trained, and it is time for real fighting. It's just mountain lions any way. We need to rid ourselves of them." His father's voice was deep and powerful compared to Burz's young voice. His stern expression did not soften at his child's plea.

"But sir, I am only 9... This sword is heavy. Why can't Gallic help you? Dad?" Burz pleaded with his father.

"Son! Gallic is helping your mother with the chores. It is time for you to learn. Now stop complaining, we need to be silent to sneak up on these cats." His father cut him short. He was always very stern and hard on his son, like many orc fathers. Burz figured he would never do this to his child, should he have one.

The pair crouched down behind a pile of rocks and some brush sticking up from the ground. Burz eyed his sword. It was large in his hand, but well crafted. His armor was loose, but was made so he could grow into it. The elder orc stood up high enough to see over the rock. He scanned the area and gave Burz the signal to move to the next pile of rocks. Burz's father moved behind a tall patch of brush. He picked around to scan again. He gave Burz another signal, the lions were ahead. He was to sneak up to a patch of grass and wait for his father. They would spring the attack together. Burz felt his stomach in his chest. He ducked out from the rocks and scuttled over to the brush ahead. The lions heard him and looked up. They didn't see him, but they were now on the look out.

Burz's father couldn't come from his position because the lions were alert. They would have to spring the attack with Burz in front. His heart was pounding hard and fast. He was used to wooden sticks and dull swords. Not wild animals and large claws that could spill his insides with one swipe. He looked back at his father. They made eye contact. His father gave a rare smile, it looked as wild as the beasts they were stalking. He gave the signal. It was time. Burz leaped out from behind the brush as his father did the same a few yards back. They charged at the lions, who instantly prepared for combat.

* * *

Burz shook his head, getting the memory of his first real fight out of his head. That was so long ago, yet the feeling he had was fresh in his mind. The army was nearing it's target. He could see the city faintly in the distance. He had no idea how far it was exactly. Distance was hard to judge with so little around. He could see tall slender towers rising above the ground. They looked like extra tall grass from this distance as they were a sandy tan color. It looked like the Khajiit had just taken the sand and sculpted a mecca out of it. It was as large as any hold in Skyrim, possibly bigger. There were many dome shaped buildings under the towers.

By this point, the grass had started to fade and turn patchy. There was more sand around them, and trees had become less sparse. There was even a lake close by. The patches of grass that were left even had a little color to them. According to the map, the terrain would become more of a forest to the south of Corinth. Burz decided it would be a good idea to take a short break since they were close to water, and approaching the city. He couldn't have his forces falling over from walking. He called for a halt in the march, and spread word that they would continue in 15 minutes. He made his way to some shade close to the water's edge and propped himself up against a tree.

Odahviing thundered over to him to drink. Paarthurnax had volunteered to stay back at camp to help guard it. "So, Dovahkiin, getting ready for some fun? It has been a long while since I've gotten to kill something. There was a pesky soldier that kept coming by the water jars that I thought about killing, but I thought it best to spare him." The Red Dragon laughed at his own joke. Burz smirked slightly. He knew Odahviing well enough to know he was joking, but from the looks other soldiers gave him, he knew they didn't get it.

"You know, jokes like that make it hard for people to trust you, friend." Burz continued to smirk.

"I have no worries about them. Once they see what I can do, they will learn to appreciate me." He laughed again.

"Odahviing, don't you ever grow tired of fighting? Doesn't killing ever get old to you?" Odahviing looked surprised by this.

"No, it hasn't. I am a warrior. I pledge my allegiance to the strongest warrior I know. Right now that is you, Dovahkiin. This is what I live for..." His voice trailed off. It was not the answer Burz wanted to hear. He thought it best not to push the subject.

"Right, that is what I thought," Burz replied shortly. He sat for a few more minutes and decided to begin rounding up the ranks again. They should move out soon. They had rested enough. They still had much ahead of them.

* * *

"It is your time, my son. You must find your own way in the world now." Burz's father sounded slightly softer than normal. There was a hint of sadness in it, but only a hint. Burz looked into his father's eyes. He had developed small bags under his eyes, and his once jet black hair had streaks of gray. His face was still fierce, but age had softened him a small bit. It was Burz's 15th birthday, and it was their old clans custom to send their children off to become men at this age so that they could come back as strong warriors, or they could start tribes of their own. Even though his father had been exiled from his clan, he stayed true to their ways. His hope was that his children could earn their way back in. Clan life was easier than being alone.

Burz's mother gazed deeply into his face. She showed a little more remorse than his father, but there was still little expression to her face. Burz had grown strong and proud since his mountain lion raid with his father. Burz felt a little sting in his eyes as he tried to hold back tears. He had not yet mastered his emotions like his parents. His father stepped closer and put his hand on the young orc's shoulder.

"Be strong, my son. Your journey will be difficult. You are welcome back once you have found your manhood." His father said, his voice was tender. Burz looked up and saw a tear in his father's eye. They were sending him off with a tent, a bed roll, and a small bag full of coins. He would not get to say good bye to his younger brother, who was on an errand to Anvil. The family had planned that as it would be difficult for Gallic to say goodbye.

Wordlessly, Burz turned towards his family's gate and made his way towards it. He was holding back a burning wave of tears as he turned back to get one last look at his parents. Both were smiling proudly as their son was off to become a proud orc warrior. He opened the gate and took his first step on his journey to manhood. As soon as he was sure he was out of sight, he got off the road and broke into tears. He let them spill freely. He was unsure when he would see his family again, and it killed him inside.

* * *

The army was getting rather close to Corinth now. There was a tan, sandy wall surrounding the city, not even as tall as Odahviing. Behind it was the city. A bustling mecca of Khajiit of all kinds. There were many square buildings near the city gate. The farther in, the larger and more extravagant the buildings got. But they were all tan. All sandy. The guards saw the army approaching and were shocked at the massive herd of people moving their way. Then they saw the dragons... They sounded the alarm, and the townspeople rushed into their homes, and the guards stirred from their barracks. Had they truly not known they were coming?

Burz was unsure if it was some sort of surprise attack. They had very few soldiers of the wall to defend the city. Something didn't sit right. He approached the city and used his Thu'um to project his voice.

"By decree of the Imperial Legion, I call upon The Mane, ruler of this land! Surrender yourself, and relinquish your rule over this land and these people, and there will be no bloodshed!" Burz's thundering voice echoed off of the city walls. The guards looked dumbfounded as to how he spoke so loudly. He saw a few of them disappear into the city. He waited a few moments and repeated himself. Nothing. He gave the signal for the army to advance. They marched a number of paces when Burz saw what looked like a high ranking warrior climb up the wall. He halted the army to see if the individual would speak.

Without a word, the Khajiit warrior signaled to his archers that were hidden by the walls to fire a volley of flaming arrows. A cloud of fire descended on the Legion army. Burz bellowed to the soldiers to shield themselves. Once the sky was clear, Burz called on the dragons to advance. Odahviing leaped into the sky, followed by a handful of winged beasts. They screeched towards the unimpressive city wall. The guards atop the wall dashed away to avoid the dragons onslaught. Odahviing threw himself into the sandy tan wall, crumpling it to the ground, and exposed the archers that had brought on the cloud of flames. Some were crushed under the heavy boulders the wall had become.

Burz bellowed for the army to storm the gates. The hot sun beamed down from the mid-day sky. The mass of flesh and steel oozed it's way the Corinth's partially demolished wall. Odahviing picked himself up from his destruction. He leaped into the sky once more and reigned fire down on the archers as they fled his flames. The army made it's way to the city walls with few casualties. The guards that were still left standing on the wall threw spears down at the attackers as they funneled through the new massive gateway.

"FUS-ROH-DAH!" Burz blasted a number of guards from their stations they clang to so desperately. He still felt a sense of unease. His soldiers trickled into the streets, chopping down any resistance in their path. The dragons caused mayhem and destruction as they stayed ahead of the soldiers to ease their assault. The Khajiit were like children cowering below their angry parents. Many of them laid down their weapons and gave up in hopes of being spared.

The typical dry, tan sand was mixing with the wet blood it's inhabitants. It was turning into a goopy mixture of dark brown and red as the bodies piled up, one by one. The Legion made their way through the square sand huts and made it's way to the nicer parts of the city. They met with an unexpected obstacle. There was a second wall within the city. Burz called for his Dovah friend who crashed the second wall. In his wake flooded the Legion army, who met with a much stronger foe. This is where the warriors of the Khajiit had been waiting. Burz unsheathed his hammer and prepared to attack.

"YOL-TOOR-SHUL!" Burz let out an inferno at the Khajiiti warriors. The smell of scorched fur was pungent. His hammer met with skull after skull. It was strange how this was all coming back to him so easily. A massive paw came from no where and met with Burz's face, swiping helm clean off. He recoiled as he gained his balance again. He turned to face his attacker. It looked to be an oversized saber cat. He readied his hammer as he bolted at his foe. As he swung, the cat pawed his hammer and knocked it from his hands.

"TIID-KLO-UL!" Time itself bent to his will. The cat's movements slowed as he pulled a blade from his chest plate. His thoughts had time to catch up with the action. He aimed his blade where the beast's heart should be and let it fly. As the dagger pierced the cats skin and tore through the bone, a set of fangs wrapped itself around the Khajiit body. Burz looked up and saw one of the dragon warriors clenching his foe up from the ground. Time sped back up to normal pace. The dragon tossed the warrior like one would toss a sack of potatoes.

Burz sprinted over to his hammer and found his helm. He continued his advance towards the palace. In Skyrim, he would be working his way up a hill, but the land was flat here. The building continued to tower over him. The roads were much more narrow in this land. It was hard to orient himself. There was death and fire all around him. He was nearing the center building. The Palace. He would find the Mane there, and end all this swiftly. He looked to the sky and saw the burning sun directly overhead. It was blinding and unrelenting. He noticed the dragons circling above, each scoping out their next target.

He continued down the path towards the Palace. From above came a loud crashing sound, and large segments of building came crashing down around him as a dragon corpse came crashing down to earth on the path ahead of him. He took cover in the closest building until the chaos had subsided. He then continued ahead, climbing over his fallen brother. He was very close now, as he was in the shadow of his target. He saw a Khajiit out of the corner of his eye, and whirled around to see an unarmed man standing in front of him, child in hand. Tears were streaming down his face, matting down the fur under his eyes.

"Find cover somewhere, you fool! Get in a building and out of sight! You wont be harmed if you stay out of the way!" Burz yelled at the man's stupidity. The Khajiit glanced around fearfully and looked Burz in the eyes. He nodded and ran away to hide in a building like Burz instructed. Burz turned back around and continued to run. What a fool! He made his way up a small flight of steps and found himself at the Palace doors. He looked back to see how far his soldiers were. Many of them were nearing the Palace as well. He turned to face the doors again. They would likely be sealed with guards bracing it from the other side.

"FUS-ROH-DAH!" His Thu'um slammed against the doors, blasting it from the frame. He ran inside a large hall, the ceilings high enough for a mammoth to walk under. Guards poured out from small passageways on either side. "FUS-ROH-DAH!" Burz blasted the beasts on their backs, knocking the wind from their lungs. Legion soldiers began to trickle in behind Burz and engaged with the fallen guards. Burz made his way deeper into the hall. He saw two large doors at the end. That must be the throne room. He gathered a few troops and charged at the doors.

"FUS-ROH-DAH!" He let out a shout to weaken the doors. These would be thick and would fall to one shout. His body met with the sturdy wood. It jolted his senses for a second as pain from the impact shot across his body. He and his fellow Legionaries pushed against the blockade. He called for them to get back. "FUS-ROH-DAH!" He shouted again. The doors buckled, and then men rammed it again. This time the doors collapsed under their effort. Burz picked himself up off the ground as Khajiit soldiers surrounded him and his men. He grabbed for his hammer and swung mightily. He knocked 2 soldiers to their backs. He bashed in one of their skulls, the blood staining the marble floor.

He looked up from his conquest and caught a glimpse of the Mane. He looked like a large mountain lion, with a gigantic mane on his head. It was all different colors, and was braided all together. It was as long as a dragons tail, and was curled up at the side of his throne. The Mane had more hair than body. He did not move as the Legion soldiers approached him. He just sat, staring.

"I am Legate Burz gro Ka. I am from the Imperial Legion. We demand that you relinquish rule of this land and it's people over to us. Surrender!" Burz shouted, his voice was loud and commanding. His father would be proud.

"You will have to kill me." The cat spoke, his voice was softer than Burz expected. It took him by surprise how calm the Mane was. His eyes were narrow as he looked at the soldiers before him. One of them men made a move towards the Mane, but Burz stopped him. Some thing did not feel right. The Mane's eyes widened a little, and his gave centered on Burz.

"If we kill you, another Mane will simply take your place, correct?" Burz asked.

"There is no next of kin in my line," The Mane muttered. "It would die with me..."

"There would be some way of replacing you. We will take you into custody, and assume leadership starting immediately." Burz said, his eyes were narrow. He felt very uneasy. Just then a soldier ran up behind him.

"Sir! SIR! Legate gro Ka! This is not the Mane! We found a civilian and his child hiding in a building not far from here! He told us they moved the Mane to Torval. The Khajiit plan to move him to Valenwood tomorrow!" The soldier spit out. His breath was heavy from the run. The Mane stand in snarled and leaped from the throne. Burz spun around and smashed his hammer into his jaw, breaking it. The Khajiit fell to the ground with a wimper.

"Put him into custody," Burz turned to the young messenger, "Gather the troops. We move for Torval within the hour. We must catch the Mane before he makes it to Valenwood!" He barked at the soldier. They couldn't let the Khajiit leader flee the province with the rest of the army caught up in the north. They would need the full army to attack Valenwood. Burz sheathed his hammer and sat in the vacant throne. He needed a rest for the next battle.


End file.
